Somewhere Safe
by mickeydubs
Summary: A voice came over the radio. "What you thought you knew is no longer a viable resource. The world as you knew it has fallen. Find somewhere safe. Barricade the entrances. Help is on the way. This is not a test." Puck, Faberry, and Brittana overtones.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere Safe

Part1: Be Sure Your Mask Is Secure Before Assisting Others

Chapter 1: Puck

You always think you'll know when it's about to happen. When you watch those movies with the badass, fuck-all hero, he always senses it the second before it happens, and he turns around just in time to go all hardcore and save the hot chick who's in the corner crying because what's going on is too much for her and she doesn't know how to deal with anything.

That's how you assume it will be when shit goes down for real. You think you'll be able to know, by some intuition that comes with being alive in the midst of the chaos you never thought would make it outside of the screens, what to do in an instant. You think instinct will take over your body and you'll go into a sort of auto-pilot state, and you'll come out on the other side covered in sweat, carrying the damsel-in-distress bridal style through clouds of smoke and soot into safety, and the day will end with fresh clothes and some food and maybe a bottle of whiskey behind the impenetrable walls of a military-run fortress. You think if you look the part and talk with the right attitude, that being the guy who takes control and can handle everything that's thrown at him will come naturally. You think if you have a mohawk and big muscles, then you're already naturally qualified to take on the rugged savior role. You think because you came from a comparatively rough background, and you got into a bunch of stupid fights when you were younger, that it's your prerogative to live up to the reputation that comes with the life you were handed.

That's what you think.

That's how it's supposed to be.

When it happened, I was in the kitchen with my mom. She was cooking eggs on the stove with the spatula that was cracked from the time she used it to kill a fruit fly on my head. I was sitting on the counter next to the toaster oven, sleep refusing to leave my eyes, waiting for my English muffin to brown the way I liked it. I watched it carefully through the little door; it was a delicate balance - if I didn't keep an eye on it, it was almost sure to burn. When it burns it tastes like ash.

The warm, homey scents that enveloped the air in the room curled around me; it made it difficult to fully wake myself up. Getting up that early always left me a little hazy until I really started my day. My mom tapped out a beat with her toe on the opaque tile of the floor, and I registered it, but I was in a state of consciousness in which I experienced everything around me as if I were watching it on television.

I've never been much of a morning person.

The radio was on, playing some classic rock station that was hell-bent on its hour-long Journey tribute. Ma had unplugged the TV two days before. Some of the stations had gone as far as to stop calling it a man-made epidemic and deem it an act of God meant to punish us for the way we've treated the world and each other. She said she was done listening to what the newscasters were saying. It was going to reach us or it wasn't, and nothing they said on the television would make any difference. I knew from Rachel, since her dads were doctors and everything, that there was a big quarantine at the hospital, but she said that there was nothing to link it to what was going on. Not yet, at least.

I kept hoping that their voices might interrupt the music, might make some kind of public announcement that would confirm that we were safe, or even that we weren't. They'd been saying the same things for days. Last I had heard, they still didn't know if it was airborne, or whether or not certain individuals were immune. I doubt if they knew any more than we did.

Hanging in uncertainty made me edgy. I could tell my mom wasn't impressed. She refused to believe it. Sometimes, if I looked closely enough when she got lost in her thoughts and stared at nothing at all, I could see just a film of fear lying beneath the nonchalant surface she kept up for my benefit. It almost would have been easier if she would have shown it. I might not have been ashamed of my own hidden anxiety; I might not have forced myself into a stiff sort of security to prove myself to her.

With the way it began, there was nothing to suggest that this morning should have been anything other than ordinary.

When I got up and looked out the window, much earlier than I would normally have preferred on a summer day, the sun was out, and the only clouds in the sky were white and wispy. That's another thing you don't think of: you always expect it to happen on a rainy, or at least overcast, day. You think that the world will suit the way its inhabitants have become, and a gloomy, ominous atmosphere will reflect the frightening activity.

Ma had told me that I had to start getting out of the house this summer. It was either find something to do with myself that didn't involve sitting in a basement and working on my hand-eye coordination with endless hours of video games, or take the dish-washing job at the restaurant where she waited tables. The familiar look on her face told me she meant business.

So, I signed up for a summer baseball league. It wasn't too bad. A few other guys from school were on the team with me, and it kept my arm in shape for football. The only downside was that practice started at 8 o'clock every morning, and laps were assigned for tardiness. Looking back, I'm actually glad Coach Beiste was so insistent on the early mornings. I could've been asleep when it happened.

It was exactly 7:30 when I plopped into my chair at the counter with half of my English muffin already stuffed in my mouth and a glass of orange juice sloshing over the rim of my glass onto my hand. I cussed quietly, and Ma chided me half-heartedly as she placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. "Noah, I really wish you would at least _pretend_ to try to watch your mouth around me." I just rolled my eyes and dabbed at the orange juice, which was quickly making my hand sticky and smelling of citrus, with the napkin she placed next to my food.

Slumped low in my chair and hunched over my plate, I shoveled the eggs into my mouth with the assistance of both my fork and my fingers. I knew her back would be turned to me again as she finished her work at the stove, so for the moment, I wouldn't be scolded for my lack of table manners on top of everything else.

It was as I polished off the glass of OJ that the sound of the spatula clattering to the floor, along with several heavy thumps, reached my ears.

I turned in my seat and froze. I was suddenly very, very awake.

I didn't jump to action. I didn't reach for the baseball bat that leaned against the table's leg just beside me. I didn't leap up and kick the thing away. I didn't grab a knife from the rack and stab it in the chest.

I couldn't move.

My eyes wouldn't blink; they bulged out of my skull, and I'm sure I looked like I was choking. It certainly felt like I was. My muscles all tensed up at once and locked. I didn't tackle it to the floor and break its neck with my bare hands. I didn't punch its head hard enough to leave a dent. I didn't do anything. I couldn't move. I couldn't save her.

I didn't save her.

She didn't even scream.

I watched, stunned, horrified, as my mother was overwhelmed by this... thing. I didn't know what it was, then. All I could see of it was its back and the top of its head, neither of which resembled anything I would have thought capable of the decimation of human body that took place before me.

It ripped her throat clean from her body before the idea of sucking in a breath to call for help even entered her mind. Blood splattered the walls, splattered the floor, splattered it, splattered me. The noises it made were like nothing I'd ever heard.

Eventually the "fight or flight" instincts you always hear about kicked into gear; I stood hastily from my chair and effectively knocked it over. My knees were gelatin. The sound of the wood chair clattering to the tile floor was deafening, and the beat of silence that followed it chilled the blood in my veins. Its neck cracked as its head swiveled sharply to follow the noise. My breath got lost somewhere between my lungs and my mouth.

His skin was greyed and pale; it hung off of his bones like rags. His teeth were discolored and broken, and dark, unidentifiable slime coated his lips. His hair was wild and had fallen out in places, and there were large, unmistakable stains all over what remained of his torn, disheveled clothing. The whites of his eyes had yellowed. His pupils were white and hazy, like ghosts.

A violent shiver rattled its way down the length of my shoulders and spine. The urge to boot the contents of my stomach was undeniable, but I clamped my jaw and forced the need to vomit away; my throat seemed to have closed off, and I knew nothing would get through if it came up.

I turned to my mother, pleaded silently for her to tell me what to do, but she couldn't. Her neck and a long strip of her left cheek were gone, the holes oozing and red; angry. Tears leaked from my eyes, but I didn't notice until much later, when the saltwater had crusted on my face along with everything else.

Her own eyes begged me to save her, implored me to be the man she never thought I could be.

I stumbled backward and his vacant eyes snapped to me seconds before he lunged. I fell on my back and he toppled over and away from me, carried by his own momentum into the sturdy kitchen cabinet behind the island counter. I scrambled to my feet and whirled around. I expected him to be on top of me again within milliseconds. But he was slow. Slower than he had been, at least.

I wanted to run. I wanted to let my feet take over and carry me away from this scene. I wanted to sprint as fast and as far as I could until the burn in my legs crippled me and left me to die where no one would mourn my body.

Instead, my legs were dead weight. My feet were encased in cement blocks. I stood stock still as he got back to his feet. My breath came in muted gasps. I followed his movement with my eye, unable to blink.

He wasn't careful or ginger. He did not notice the injuries he was sure to have sustained having made such forceful contact with such sturdy surfaces. I watched him, and the panic grew in my chest as I realized that "flight" had failed me.

He faced me, and I could feel the hunger he exuded in heavy waves. My heartbeat drummed in my chest until it was less of a hammer and more of a thick hum.

He sniffed the air and glanced quickly at my mother, unmoving on the floor. The only sound from her direction was a quiet gurgling that I didn't ever want to have to identify. He turned his nose up at her; she was already going cold. His face swung back to me. I was still plenty warm.

I saw his agile legs bend, and it felt like slow motion as he leapt into the air and pounced for me over the island that separated us. His vault was clumsy, and I somehow found the state of mind to duck just before his gnarled fingers could clutch at my skin. I squatted below the table and tried to control my labored breathing. My mind whirled in every random direction imaginable. It was like it wanted to focus but couldn't decide what on.

I heard him stagger behind me and crawled around to the other side of the island, where I had been sitting and eating just moments before. I moved as quickly as was possible on my hands and knees, and looked up just in time to knock my head against my metal baseball bat. I blinked the pain away as much as I could and wrapped my hand around the handle. My palms were sweating. Blood pounded in my ears.

I stood slowly from my crouching position, waiting for him to jump onto my back and sink his teeth into me.

I swallowed audibly when I didn't see him. A quiet ripping sound, followed by hushed, sloppy slurping brought my attention back to the floor. Having lost sight of me, he had reverted back to his devouring of my mother.

It happened in a sort of blur. I ran around the island behind him without an ounce of subtlety, but I still managed to surprise him. I brought the bat up over my head and down on the back of his. He crumpled forward to the side of her body.

That was when I realized it. She was just a body.

I must have screamed. My throat was raw after. In those moments, the world was silent but for the crunch of the bat on his body. I hit him again and again. My actions were entirely out of my control. I couldn't get the sight of her out of my vision. She didn't look like a person anymore. She was a slab of ravaged meat. A carcass.

I threw all of the might I had in me behind each stroke of the bat to his head. I heard his skull as it began to cave in, but I kept going. Sloppy, goo-like matter flew from each point of contact.

My heart felt like it was ripping itself from my ribcage. Tears slid from my eyes with abandon. I'm sure that snot was dripping from my nose. My salivary glands didn't seem to know what to do either; spit rocketed out of my mouth and clung to my lips.

I only stopped when there was nothing left of it to smash. A sob ripped itself from my throat.

I couldn't stay there. I couldn't be there anymore. I had to leave. I had to leave her. I had to leave her… body.

I couldn't stay with her like that. There was next to nothing recognizable about her.

But he had left her eyes. She died looking as disappointed in me as she always told me she was.

I never believed her until it was the last thing she didn't say.

I ran from the house. I didn't even notice the mayhem in the streets until I was six blocks down and bent over my knees retching in a bush. The bat was still tight in my grasp. My knuckles were as white as my ashen face.

I couldn't understand. I couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend. I couldn't grieve. I couldn't register anything. It couldn't be real. Sure, they had issued warnings on the news, but these things didn't happen. This was strictly Hollywood horror territory.

My mom was dead.

What's more, Mr. Schuester had killed her.

And I had killed what was left of him.

**Author's Note: Thanks in advance for joining me on this adventure. I'll admit, I'm pretty excited about it. I've decided, against my better judgement, to publish this chapter by chapter as I write, rather than finish it all and then post it. Consequently, updates may not be frequent or regular, but I promise to put in the effort. I have a basic storyline in my head, but I am open to suggestions if you would be so kind as to PM me. I live to please.**


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere Safe

Part 1

Chapter 2: Rachel

Reality is a very odd thing.

They had been replaying the warnings on television, almost non-stop depending on which channel you were watching. It's not like we could say we never saw it coming. And yet, it seems like we didn't.

It was one of those strange situations in which the happenings of the world didn't seem real until they affected you directly. It was like watching a movie, except I had suddenly been cast as the main character and I didn't know my lines. I didn't even know the plot.

It was a little after eight when I made my way into the kitchen for breakfast. I had gotten a late start that morning; it was 6:45am by the time I managed to pull myself out of bed and hop onto my elliptical. It had been another long night the evening before.

My fathers had already left for work when I got downstairs. They both had early mornings at the hospital. I grabbed some fruit and the apple juice out of the fridge to make myself a breakfast smoothie. I hummed "Take Me Or Leave Me" to myself and danced around the kitchen in a pair of high-waisted jean shorts and a simple V-neck as the blender whirred my breakfast together; though "whirred" perhaps isn't the right word - the blender at my house was a very loud one - it was almost a magnified growl kind of sound.

For that reason, I almost didn't hear the first scream.

It was a distant sound, almost like the high-pitched moan the radiator in my house makes sometimes. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that it was summer, and the radiator had been turned off for over a month.

When I turned off the blender and didn't hear it again, I wrote it off as some of the neighborhood kids being as rowdy as ever, despite the early hour. I placed the blender into the sink with a metallic clank to wash later.

After I fished a bendy straw out of the box on the counter and stuck it in my glass, I twirled it around in the fruity concoction and wandered out the front door to enjoy my drink with some fresh morning air on the deck. The sun bounced around everything in sight and glanced off my face pleasantly. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

A ladybug fluttered around my head, and I smiled when it landed on the hand I had resting on the porch railing. I'd always had a thing for ladybugs. I'd heard somewhere that they were good luck, but I'm not sure if that was just something my dads made up to keep me calm when one landed on my nose when I was little. I watched as it scuttled around and over my fingers. It didn't seem to have any direction; it was just exploring a new world.

After a minute or so, it took off again and I watched it until it disappeared into the distance. "Bye, Lady," I mumbled softly into the air.

I heard another sound that reminded me of the radiator, and my gaze wandered in the direction of the street in search of kids running after each other with water guns or something of the sort.

What I saw instead would have had me hurling over the side of the porch if I'd had a stronger gag reflex.

There was a child running in the street, but chasing after him wasn't his friend trying to tag him.

I tried to call out to him, but for the first time in my life, my voice failed me. All I could force out was a raspy squeak. I watched, horrified, as the scene before me unfolded, my mouth agape. I felt as if I was dreaming, but this was something not even my nightmares could have stirred up.

The cup in my hand slid from between my fingers, and the sound of it clinking on the wood of the deck redirected my attention. I stared at the thick liquid as it oozed in slow motion from its container. I didn't blink until it reached the toe of my sock; the cold shook me from my stupor. I jerked my head back up to check the street, make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I wished I had been.

With a shaky breath, I ran frantically back into the house; my socks slid on the hardwood and tile. I collided with the door to my dad's home office and twisted the knob violently, almost falling over the threshold in my haste. I licked my lips, and I could feel my eyes blinking rapidly. I yanked the closet door open and reached for the box on the top shelf. My dads had told me where it was in case of an emergency.

If this didn't qualify as an emergency, I don't know what would.

My fingertips brushed the bottom of the dark, wooden box but couldn't grab ahold of it. I cursed my lack of height. I looked around desperately and my eyes landed on the wheeled computer chair that sat before the desk. I dragged it over the carpet, positioned it in front of the shelf that held the box, and climbed aboard. A good two and a half feet taller, the box was well within reach. I grabbed it and stuck it under my arm.

I made to step down from my perch, but the wheels rolled the chair out from under me and I fell to the ground on my back, the wind knocked clear from my lungs. Tears pricked my eyes, and I struggled to blink them away. I stood carefully and sucked several deep breaths in with effort.

When I had recovered enough to remember the situation and function again, a set the box on the desk and lifted the latch. A shudder of hesitation passed through me as I opened the top and looked down on the sleek black item inside.

A true, terrifying scream from outside set me in my resolution, and I pulled the gun out and sprinted through the house back outside. The weapon was heavy in my hand. Panic surged in my chest.

I hoped I wasn't too late.

Rushing into the sunlight, I was momentarily blinded, so I lifted a hand to block the sun. The thing was bent over a lump on the ground, and though I knew what it was, I couldn't make my brain identify the growing red puddle that seeped from it. The thing slurped at it, and my vision was temporarily blurred as tears spilled over and down my cheeks. It wasn't until then that I could see the face of the little boy. His blonde hair had begun to soak up some of the red liquid that oozed from his abdomen.

A loud bang burst in my ears, and it wasn't until I looked down at my own hands that I realized I'd raised the gun and fired. When I looked back up, I saw that the thing had crumpled, half on top of the little blonde boy, and the dark stains that coated the pavement had all but doubled.

I collapsed where I stood, completely overwhelmed by the situation I'd just found myself in. Sobs wracked my body, and I could feel my eyes staring, pulled unnaturally wide open. My breath had become shallow, and I gasped for air as if I'd been choked.

After several minutes, I stepped down the porch steps, wavering dangerously; I was light-headed from lack of oxygen. I paced unevenly onto the street. The pavement was hot from the summer sun, even so early in the morning, and I could feel it trying to singe the soles of my feet through my socks. I side-stepped the crimson puddle that seeped into the capillary cracks of the road and knelt down beside the two fallen figures. Both of their bodies were torn apart, and in places, it was next to impossible to tell what belonged to whom. I scrunched my nose at the smell that penetrated my nostrils. I inspected the boy's face, jut to confirm my suspicions.

I closed my eyes and turned my head away. What was Sam going to say when he found out that I didn't save his little brother?

I opened my eyes to look at the thing that had attacked him and my chest seized. A clean, round hole made its way through his skull, right smack in the middle of his forehead. It took a moment for me to recognize the face when it was so disfigured and broken from the image I had known.

But of course Mr. Ryerson would have gone after the little boy.

I was suddenly very aware of my surroundings. What was going to happen to me? I had just killed a man. Or at least, I had killed a thing that was once a man. At the time, I couldn't see the law making allowances for the difference.

I stood robotically and started walking down the street. I paid no mind to the fact that the pavement wore on my socks, or that my knees were scraped up from standing from my kneeling position on the road so quickly, or the fact that there was smoothie all over my porch, or that I was still carrying the gun.

For hours, or perhaps it was only minutes, the world passed by me in a haze. Had I been more aware, I would have made note of the fact that the streets were unnaturally quiet. (Retrospectively, I would have thought the stratosphere should have been reverberating with cries of fear and sorrow.) My feet carried me of their own accord. My mind shut down, too overcome with what had transpired to be able to process it. Everything was blank for an indiscernible amount of time, as I went into shock and my body worked on auto-pilot.

I realized later on that I had unconsciously walked the route that I used to run on before my dads bought me my elliptical. I wandered mindlessly through the vast suburban neighborhood; I must have traveled miles before someone found me.

"Rachel! Oh shit, Berry, are you okay?"

I blinked and turned to see one Noah Puckerman rushing toward me. When he reached me in the middle of the otherwise deserted road, he grabbed me by the shoulders and started rambling a mile a minute. I didn't catch most of what he said, just bits and pieces. Most of it involved descriptions of a perfectly normal morning until he reached something having to do with blood and his mom and Mr. Schuester and vomit.

"You're not bit, are you?" He asked, winding down from his tirade. "Is this your blood?"

I looked down at myself and found a large spot of red adorning my shirt. I looked back up at the concern in his eyes and collapsed into him, the emotion bursting forth from behind the barrier my mind had built during my walk. Puck was surprised, but he closed his arms around my shoulders anyway. I clutched at his back and fisted the fabric of his t-shirt. I knew from the shudder in his breath that he was struggling to contain his own tears.

We stood there for several minutes, until my sobs had mostly subsided. He rubbed my back comfortingly and I finally pulled back. He thumbed the last of my tears from my cheeks and his face turned stony. "We need to get off the road. I think Quinn lives on this street, maybe we can stay with-"

"Hospital," I choked out. His brow furrowed, but I continued without prompt. "My dads... doctors at the hospital... safe." He looked confused at my uncharacteristic lack of charisma, but nodded when I fixed him with a determined stare.

"Okay. Yeah, let's try the hospital first. It's gotta be one of the safest buildings in town anyway, right?" I figured he was speaking more to himself than me at that point.

We made our way down the street, back the way I had come. Puck looked around us, almost overly vigilant, with a dented metal baseball bat over his shoulder. I watched my feet.

When we reached a patch of woods at the end of the road, he tapped my shoulder gently. "Come on; short cut. The trail comes out near the Lima Bean, like, two blocks from the hospital," he said, gesturing to a pebble-covered trail that wound into the trees. I followed him there but stopped when we reached the edge of the path.

I looked back down at my socks. "I don't have any shoes." My voice was quiet, but forming words required so much more effort then, than it normally did.

He paused, having gone ahead of me without realizing it. He turned back to me, still at the break between the trees and the street. "What?" He followed my gaze to my feet. "Oh." He thought for a moment with his bottom lip between his teeth before he jogged back to where I stood, turned his back to me, and bent his knees. After several seconds, I understood and climbed onto his back. He hefted me up, looped his arms under my legs, and we set off again.

The pace at which we wandered through the woods was almost leisurely, if not for the tenseness of our minds and bodies. In any other situation, it would have been a lovely walk; to an uninformed observer, we might have looked like the poster for a cheesy teen romance movie. Sunlight cascaded downward, unaffected by all of the insanity; it filtered through the bushels of leaves and cast organic shadow puppets on the ground and tree trunks. A bird chirped overhead. Pollen swirled in the air lazily, and it didn't make sense in my head for there to be such peacefulness here when everything else had gone to hell.

I wasn't even surprised when a body jumped out from behind a bush screaming at us.

Puck yelped in shock and fell backward; he only just managed to twist so that he wouldn't land on top of me. He rolled onto his side, tightened his grip in his bat, and brought it back in preparation to take the thing's legs out from under it.

"Wait, no!" I called to him when I realized that the owner of the legs wasn't lunging to attack us. Puck halted the bat in its tracks just in time.

I let out a relieved breath and followed the shapely legs up to find the face of the person before us. My eyebrows lifted in confusion. "Quinn?" I almost didn't recognize her. Her feet were bound in once-black, beaten combat boots. Her shorts were acid washed denim cut-offs, and her shirt was ripped at the abdomen. On top of her head, a black bandanna rested over bright pink, sloppily chopped locks. "What... Your hair."

Puck got to his feet and looked her over as well as he hoisted me to my feet. His eyes lingered on the kitchen knife she held with a white-knuckled grip. "Damn, Q, you a bounty hunter now or something?"

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I, uh... just needed a change of pace, that's all."

Puck shrugged his indifference. "Alright, whatever. Look, we're gonna go stop by the hospital, make sure everything there is still safe and stuff, you wanna come with?"

Her eyes darted almost imperceptibly to me before returning to him. She cocked her head to the side slightly, seeming to say _Sure, I guess so._

I clambered back onto Puck's back as he stated rather gravely, "It's probably better to move in groups anyway."

We set off again, still moving at a calm pace; it was as if we thought if we moved more hurriedly, it meant that something really was wrong, and none of us wanted to admit to that reality just yet.

We approached the end of the trail cautiously. Each of us scanned the area for anything hostile or dangerous. When we reached the sidewalk, Puck set me back on my feet, and we continued forward with ginger steps.

The hospital stood grand and tall on the other side of the street. It was a new building; it had been erected the previous year to accommodate state-of-the-art research facilities and quarantine wards.

We were halfway across the road when I spotted a body making its way in our direction down the way. It was too far away to tell whether or not it meant us harm, but I paused and grabbed Puck's arm to get his attention. I pointed to the figure and he in turn grabbed Quinn's elbow to bring her attention to it.

We exchanged anxious glances and hesitated for half a moment before we collectively took off at a dash.

My focus honed in on the emergency room entrance, and I only vaguely registered the other two keeping pace in my peripheral. Wind rushed over my ears; I couldn't hear my own panting breath as my feet pounded over concrete then grass then more concrete until Quinn and I simultaneously reached the glass of the double doors. A moment later, Puck connected with the doors with enough force to knock them open and send the three of us crashing clumsily inside.

We fell into a jumbled pig-pile; Puck's shoulder all but knocked my head from my body, my elbow was buried in someone's stomach, and Quinn's face ended up inches from mine.

Her eyes widened almost comically. "Oh. Um... sorry." My mouth opened and closed several times as I failed to answer coherently. She shuffled on top of me but wasn't able to get up until Puck pulled himself up off of the both of us. I just sucked in a deep breath, swallowed harshly, and pretended not to smell the cool mint on her breath. I accepted the hand she extended to help me up after she stood sturdily herself, though she avoided my eyes.

Once we had all brushed ourselves off and shrugged away the awkwardness that hung in the air, I lead the way to the desk where a nurse was giving us a half amused, half suspicious look. I flashed what I hoped was a bright smile in attempt to reassure her, but it slipped from my lips when I spoke. "Hello, I'm looking for Hiram and Leroy Berry... I'm their daughter. It's... important."

The woman eyed me questioningly but picked up the telephone and dialed. As she mumbled to whomever was on the other end, her gaze roamed over the three of us; I had to hide a giggle when she surreptitiously gave Puck the once-over. She hung up the phone and pointed over her shoulder. "They're both on the third floor. Hiram will be waiting for you by the elevators."

I thanked her and motioned for Puck and Quinn to lead the way to the lifts. Quinn pressed the up-arrow button, and the doors slid open almost immediately, releasing a group of haggard looking men and women in white coats. They headed for the doors in what looked like a speed-walking race and disappeared into the white light of the day.

We loaded ourselves onto the emptied elevator; each of us occupied a different corner. The box lifted slowly and shakily, and it seemed the operator had forgotten to turn on the music. Quinn's fingers tapped out an erratic beat on the railing she clung to, and my eyes followed the sound. I could feel Puck watching me watching her, but I couldn't find the will power to look away. As we ascended levels, the lift emitted a loud, obnoxious beep that caused all of us to jump despite the fact that we knew it was coming.

With a final beep, we reached the third floor, and there was Dad, waiting for us.

He swooped me into his arms before I could say a word. "Rachel! Baby, what are you doing here? Are you hurt? None of you are hurt, are you?"

"No, not exact-"

"Okay good, then you should take your friends somewhere else, okay? Today's not a good day for visitors."

His eyes darted around nervously. There was clearly something he wasn't telling me. "Dad, what is going on? There are some really scary things happening outside and I came here to make sure you and Daddy were safe. I can tell you know something." My voice lost power as I spoke. "Please don't leave me in the dark." My dad's eyes were full of worry.

"Okay... There are some bad things going on, baby. This _plague_ we've been hearing about on the news," he air-quoted to exemplify his point, "is a lot worse than we've been led to believe. All of the clinical trials that came directly from the government were never planned to cure asthma or Downs Syndrome. They've had us unknowingly produce viruses that they mean to weaponize and use militarily. And the only reason I know this is because yesterday one of our patients in quarantine flat-lined and was still walking around, and his roommate disappeared. This virus kills the body but keeps the brain stem alive. The affected can still react to stimuli, they just aren't..." He shook his head, as if to dispel unwarranted images from his mind. "Do you understand?" He waited for me to nod in the affirmative with frightened doe eyes. "This is a situation that is dangerous on more levels than I can count. Civilians are not supposed to know about this project. I can get into big trouble for having read that file. But the virus has started to spread. I believe that the patient who was lost carries the virus and has taken it into the outside world. There is potential for unbelievable destruction." He looked over his shoulder at the sound of a commotion down the hall. "Now, I want you and your friends to get out of here. It's not safe for you to be so close to so many infected."

I looked at him in disbelief. "But what about you? And Daddy? Those things are all over town. You can't expect me to just leave you both here, especially after all that you've just told-"

"Rachel, this is not up for discussion." His eyes begged me to obey him. "Please. Take your friends to the high school and stay there for now. Your father and I will meet you there when we're done here." He kissed me on the forehead and nudged me back toward the elevator. He whispered, as the shiny metallic doors opened once more to admit us, "Be safe."

It wasn't until we were back outside, and we heard the thundering and cries that sounded from the floor we had just exited, that I realized what my dad had done.

All of a sudden, the world was crashing around me.

**Author's Note: Quick shout-out to my dear friend, known here as Celtic Quill, who's been giving me pre-post feedback on the story and deserves a million thank-you's and some kind of pie delivered to her. **


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere Safe

Part 2: Deep Breath, and Go

Chapter 3: Santana

"Come on, Britt, we're almost there."

The sun was beginning to set behind us. Something in my gut told me we didn't want to be wandering around out there after dark.

The school was shrouded in shadow already and loomed ominously before us. It certainly wasn't our first choice when it came to safe houses. We had managed to stick it out at my house for a couple of days, but my family had never been very proficient grocery shoppers, and it wasn't long before we ran out of supplies and my parents decided to try to make the trip to my abuela's house. I told them I wasn't going to go with them without Brittany, and from there we were left to our own devices. We tried to find refuge at the mall and the superstore already, but both had been overtaken before and shortly after we got there, respectively. I did manage to grab a handgun and a box of ammunition small enough to fit in the pocket of my letterman jacket before we had to run for it, though.

* * *

_It still shocked me that there was a whole section openly devoted to the things. I took the gun off the shelf and handled it gingerly. I checked the safety to make sure it was off; I knew it wouldn't just fire by itself from my touching it, but having the thing in my hands made me nervous. As tough as my attitude was normally, any violence more serious than shoving some bitch into a locker actually made me kind of queasy. I sucked in a long, deep breath and willed my heart-rate to slow. Now was not the time to start enforcing my inner pacifist. I debated for another moment, but in the end I stuffed the gun in one pocket and a box of bullets in the other. I would only use it if I needed it. "Better safe than sorry, I guess," I sighed to myself. _

_I wandered back in the direction of the food aisles. I knew Brittany would be going to town with the stocks of candy that dwelled right beside the potato chips. _

_"Hey Brits, you better not finish all of the Sour Patch Kids before I get some!" I called over the quiet of the store. _

_"Fine, but you'll owe me!" Her voice carried to me with a playful suggestiveness. _

_"Gladly," I muttered to myself as I poked my head around the aisle where she was tearing open bag after bag of sugary treats. I whistled and she turned in my direction with a smirk. From her spot fifteen feet away, she reached into the package she had tucked under her arm and tossed one of the gummies right to me. I shuffled into a ready position, tracked the flying candy with my eyes, and deftly caught it in my mouth. Brittany jumped up and down as she clapped for my little performance and sent even more tiny rainbow-colored people spewing out of the open bag, into the air, and onto the floor. I took a deep, over-dramatic bow, swirling my hand before me. I grinned at her amused giggle and winked before I skipped off to continue my exploration. _

_I meandered into the electronics section with a smirk playing on my lips. I looked around at all of the unbelievably, inaccessibly large television screens that would never find a place in an average household and the computers stored meticulously in shiny white boxes. I walked into the audio section and inspected the iPods. _

_It took a few moments for the low, buzzing static to register in my ears. I looked up and glanced around with my brow scrunched. I followed the noise to the display of outdated radios, and found that one of them had been left on. I made to switch it off, but just before I pressed the power button, something that resembled a voice broke through the fuzzy sound._

* * *

"Here, B, let's go in through the gym." I gave her a boost up and over the chain-link fence that separated us from our entrance. I followed after her as swiftly as I was able, slowed momentarily when my foot caught in one of the holes. We rushed for the door, both stumbling over our own feet.

I yanked on the handle of the door and was simultaneously relieved and worried that it swung open without struggle; it was good that we'd gotten somewhere familiar, but if we could get in, it meant that anyone, or anything else, could too.

I grabbed Brittany's elbow to stop her from running in ahead of me. Instinct told me that caution was the way to go on this one. I stepped in front of her, and we crept forward together into the darkened hall that led to the gymnasium. As much as it pained me to admit it, I had always had a phobia of the dark; I put on the bravest face I could manage for Brittany's sake, but as we inched further into the blackness, blood pounded in my ears, and my heart thrummed like a hummingbird in my chest. Every step I took, I expected one of those things to jump out of the shadows at us. My ears became overactive and hinted at sounds that weren't anything.

I threw out my arm to halt Brittany before we rounded the corner just before the gym. The back of my neck tingled in a way that made me sure there was a hostile something waiting for us just around the turn. I licked my suddenly very dry lips and wrapped my hand around the weapon stowed in my pocket. All of the muscles in my body tensed, and I could feel my adrenaline pumping in overdrive.

I cursed the squeak of my sneaker as I tried to ease forward an inch at a time. I steadied myself. This wasn't a situation that could be handled by starting with a single toe in the water; I would have to jump in all at once.

I heaved a great, painful breath and flew around the corner, a scream building prematurely at the back of my throat.

* * *

_A small frown creased my brow as I strained to make out the words that were being projected over the sound waves from the radio. I turned the volume knob up so that the static felt as if it were a fuzzy blanket surrounding me, but it made the voice loud enough to distinguish most of what was being said. _

_"This is a Public Service Announcement. What you thought you knew, based on the government-controlled media, is no longer a viable resource. The truth has been hidden from you. The world as you knew it has fallen. The Epidemic, as it is known, currently spreads exponentially. Infected are to be regarded as hostile and dangerous. Find somewhere safe. Collect non-perishables; treat the situation as a lock-down. Barricade any entrances. Help is on the way. This is not a test." _

_I swallowed harshly over the lump that built in my throat as the PSA looped back to the beginning and repeated. _

_That was it. The drop of hope I had that this was just some kind of fluke, or maybe a nightmare, had officially evaporated. _

_I swiped at the tear that spilled over onto my nose and willed away the ones that I could feel forming pressure behind my eyes. I didn't have time to cry. I collected myself roughly - sniffed the fear away and cleared the ache out of my throat. _

_I forced several deep breaths into my lungs before I headed off to find Brittany again; she had her bag with her, we should probably stow some food and supplies just in case. As I walked, I kept my eyes open for anything I could use to block the doors. _

_I wandered into the furniture section on my way. I eyed the king-sized bed on display, which was probably big enough to board up the front doors and a section of windows. But first I had a better idea of what to use it for. "Hey, Brits!" My voice reverberated around the open building. _

_"Yes, 'Ana?" she called back with an audible twinkle in her eye._

_"I just stumbled on the perfect way for me to repay my debt for those Sour Patch Kids." I could practically see the smirk on her lips in the moment before she answered. _

_"Oh ye-AH!" Her sultry tone surged halfway through her reply into a terrifying scream. My heart stopped at the sound. Before I knew what was happening, I was springing as fast as my legs would carry me in the direction of my best friend. I leapt over a sofa, praising Sue Sylvester for my extensive Cheerios training. "Britt!" My voice cracked noticeably as I searched frantically for my blonde companion. "Brittany!" _

_"San!" We met in the middle of a random aisle and collided in a tangle of arms as I practically squeezed the life out of her. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she blinked uncontrollably and pulled her letterman jacket tight around herself. Her muscular legs shook beneath her. "We have to get of here. One of those gross sick guys is in here, we need to leave!" _

_She pulled me in the direction of the front entrance. She glanced over her shoulder with frightened eyes every few seconds. I didn't look back until I heard a crash somewhere behind us; my eyes widened in panic as I watched one of them stumble over an overturned DVD shelf. My chest seized when I faced forward again and saw a group of them gathered outside of the double doors. _

_Brittany grabbed my hand and redirected our path around the edge wall of the store toward the emergency exit sign that hung near the back. My whole body was numb and tingly at the same time. My own ragged breathing was the loudest sound in my ears. We pounded toward the rear of the superstore without an ounce of tact or finesse. As far as we knew, only one of them had gotten inside, and they weren't terribly fast or agile until they caught wind of free-flowing blood. We reached the fire exit, and Brittany pushed the heavy metal door open slowly; she poked her head out to make sure they hadn't surrounded our last escape route. Apparently the coast was clear, because a moment later we were outside and running for our lives into the sunset._

* * *

I lunged around the corner and screamed when a body came at me. I was thrown off guard when said body screamed as well, brandishing a baseball bat. We stared at each other for almost a full minute as the adrenaline continued to pump through our systems. It took more effort than I would like to admit to slow my heart and catch my breath.

I almost couldn't believe what I saw in front of me. "Sam. Finn… I can't believe you guys are here." Brittany followed me around the corner at the sound of relief in my voice and looped a hand around the inside of my elbow. I brought my hand out of my pocket to reveal the handgun I had almost used on them. "You really should be more careful. I almost killed you."

Sam huffed out a breathless, humorless chuckle and lifted the bat in his hand. "I could say the same thing."

Behind Sam, Finn raised his eyebrows and looked dazed. "Whoa, déja vu." I cocked my head to the side in question. "We just did like, this same thing with Puck, Quinn, and Rachel. Except, they came in through the history hallway."

I breathed a smile. "Really?" He nodded simply.

Brittany stepped forward slightly. "So, who all made it here? Or is it just you guys and those three?"

Sam's expression drooped slightly. "No, it's just us."

Finn picked up where Sam trailed off. "Our cell phones still work, for now. We've called all the other glee kids. Mike and Tina are both hunkered down in one of their basements with their parents. Kurt and Blaine are both safe; they went for some kind of reunion with the Warblers at Dalton, and that school's like a fortress by itself. We couldn't get ahold of Mercedes or Artie, but they were both on vacation with their families, so y'know, they've gotta be safe, right? It's really only our own families we're worried about. Quinn and Puck both said their parents are taken care of, and Rachel's dads are both at the hospital." I tried not to think about the state of the medical center when we passed it on the way to the school. "We even managed to catch Shelby. She and Beth are both safe. But I called Burt's tire shop like five times, and my mom's not answering the house phone."

Sam's breath was shaky. "I'm just worried about my little brother. My sister's with my parents, and they can definitely handle themselves, they're tough, you know? But he was at a sleepover last night. I don't even know where." My heart broke a little for the worry I knew he was holding onto. I could certainly relate. We all could. Finn patted his shoulder, clearly not knowing how else to console someone.

"So where are the other guys?" Brittany asked from beside me; she still gripped my arm tightly.

Sam jerked his head at Finn, who nodded to him and then stepped past us with a hammer pulled from his pocket. Sam gestured for us to follow him. "We decided to camp out in the auditorium. It's a fairly central location, and it doesn't have any windows or doors that go outside, so it seemed safest. We've been working our way through, setting up barricades on all of the entrances. We were just about to get the gym when we heard you guys coming in."

"That's smart," I offered. He seemed like he was barely holding himself together for us.

He shrugged. "Have you guys been anywhere else today? D'you see any of the Draggers on your way here? Puck said he and the girls were at the Lima Bean for two days before any got to them there."

"Draggers? Is that what we're calling them?" He raised his hands as if to say _I guess so._ "Yeah we saw our fair share out there. They've completely overrun the mall, and one got a little too close for comfort when we were in the superstore. We were actually planning on staying there, but our unexpected visitor expedited the eviction notice."

Brittany's face melted into a pout. "Just thinking about it makes me want to toss my cookies. And not in a nice way."

I rubbed her back sympathetically. "Well the nurse's office is like, right next to the auditorium. We can grab something for your stomach if you want?" She nodded emphatically, her lips pulled dramatically downward.

We poked our heads in the auditorium before we headed to the nurse's office. Quinn, who sported shockingly pink hair all of a sudden, perched next to Rachel on one side of the stage. They sat close to each other, but they seemed to be consciously avoiding skin contact. I rolled my eyes; no surprises there. Puck sprawled sideways across three chairs in the second row with his arm thrown over his eyes.

Sam burst into the room with arms out wide. "Look who's here, everybody!" He glued a happy face on his large lips for the group. Quinn and Rachel's heads jerked up and spotted me and Brittany in the doorway. Puck attempted to do the same and effectively fell to the floor from his makeshift recliner. When he popped back to his feet, he covered his embarrassment with a would-be-stony nod and two-fingered salute. Rachel beamed at the sight of two more familiar faces, and Quinn's small smile said more than I would have expected.

Brittany and I both gave a small wave. "We're just going to pop into the nurse's office for a sec, we'll join this lame-ass party in just a minute," I said, hoping to retain at least some of my usual sauciness. They all gave us a nod, and we stepped back into the hallway.

I took Brittany's hand in both of mine as we entered the clinical environment of the nurse's office. Jars of Band-Aids, Q-tips, and alcohol swabs lined the counter on one side of the room. The whole place smelled sterile. Brittany sat on the plastic cot that kids used when they came to the nurse pleading headaches and exhaustion. I crossed the tile and pulled the handle on the cabinet that held the good stuff. It was locked. I rolled my eyes; the strongest drugs they kept in there was a bottle of ibuprofen. Locking the cabinet seemed like overkill. I dug through the nurse's desk until I found the small ring of keys I knew would lie within.

"How's the stomach doing, B?" I asked as I opened the cabinet and struggled to figure out which pill would be best for her discomfort.

Brittany groaned her response. "Ugh, it feels horrible."

I grabbed the bottle of aspirin and sat beside her. She clutched her abdomen over her zipped-up jacket with a scrunched face. I always hated seeing her in pain. "Here, take these." I handed her two pills and stood to get her some water.

When my back was to her, she asked me in a very small voice, "Hey 'Ana, if I told you something bad, you would still love me, right?"

I turned, surprised, and handed her a little paper cup full of cold water. "Britt, I love you no matter what, always. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my whole life. Including Breadstix. You could tell me that Lord Tubbington was giving birth to a hundred kittens and we were raising them all for competition, and my heart would still belong to you." I smiled encouragingly. She licked her lips nervously, despite the water she had just gulped down. I watched her face beseechingly. "Babe, what is it?"

A tear slid down her cheek as she unzipped her jacket. My breath halted in my chest.

"San, I got bit."

**Author's Note: Don't hate me! Next chapter will be up soon, promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere Safe

Part 2

Chapter 4: Quinn

For some reason, it didn't surprise me at all that it was only the glee club kids who ended up together in the high school auditorium at the end of the world. It made sense in a weird, convoluted way. We came together when we were all at odds with ourselves and the shit that came with being in high school, and now we were gathered again when the whole world had turned itself inside-out.

I looked around me at the faces that made up the closest thing to family most of us had ever had.

Finn, Puck, and Sam, who flopped all over the first three rows of seats, each donned sportswear and checked to make sure that their baseball bats were within reach every few seconds. They had woken up in the morning believing that the worst they had to face was Coach Beiste's wind sprints. They were all good guys; sure, they pulled some stupid stunts every now and then, but their hearts were always in the right place.

Brittany and Santana, over in the health office, who ruled the school with a collective iron fist that always managed to punch the jerks of the school in the balls and let everyone's favorite band of misfits somehow fly under the radar. As hard as Santana tried to appear like the planet's bitchiest queen bee when she was in public, she had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever known. That was what made her a good match for Brittany, who, although occasionally naive, was the kindest, most logical and patient person around. They balanced each other out, kept each other sane. I'd known them my entire life, and I knew better than most that if the perfect couple existed, they were it. They had the kind of relationship that everyone deserves to have at least once before they die. I clasped my hands in my lap when I remembered that, in all likelihood, we all would die sooner rather than later. A heaviness settled in my gut.

I saw a hand twitch beside me from the corner of my eye, and my gaze came to rest on Rachel. Her sight was set on my own clasped hands, and I imagined she was struggling to decide whether or not to cover them with one of hers.

That was the thing with Rachel; she was always the one with the instinct to comfort, regardless of whom it was that needed solace or whether or not they necessarily deserved it. She cared, more than any average person knew how. She cared about people, as a whole and as individuals; her heart had a spot in it for anyone who was lucky enough to find their way into her life. She trusted people completely, because she believed, with everything she had, that good would triumph over evil no matter what. For that reason, she was simultaneously the happiest and most heartbroken girl around. I liked to think I knew that better than anyone.

We had a good thing going for a while. We came to know each other, inside and out. We were together under circumstances that allowed us to expose ourselves to each other completely, all while hiding from the world outside.

As all good things do, though, it got to be too much for me. I let myself get close to her, be with her behind closed doors, and it was more than my bruised, fragile heart knew what to do with. By the time I realized I'd given her a pass into my head, into my heart, it was too late to retract without causing irreparable damage to the both of us.

We sat next to each other on the edge of the stage. Inches separated our thighs, and I genuinely couldn't decide if it was too much or too little. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from thinking about her thighs. I couldn't go there. Her thighs were off-limits. Her whole legs, her whole everything was out of bounds. She had made it very clear that she was done being my dirty little secret, and it wasn't within my rights to see her that way anymore. Whatever it was that we'd been doing under the cover of darkness, it was finished as soon as she told me to get out of her house that night several days earlier. She was right to do it, of course. She deserved a lot more than the pseudo-relationship we had that left both of us feeling empty and guilty.

I peered at her sidelong. Her eyes remained on my hands, though hers now twisted in her own lap. I wanted so badly to say something to her, to apologize for all of the things that I said to her, for all of the things I did, for the fact that someone as good as her had found herself caught up in this whole situation. I wanted to say anything that might make up for the way I'd been to her. I wanted to make any sound that wouldn't cause her to flinch.

Without warning, my stomach grumbled with a sound akin to a magnified purr. Her eyes snapped to my abdomen, so I averted my gaze and pretended not to notice. When it growled again, I slipped off of the stage and muttered something about heading to the cafeteria. Finn and Sam had done some exploring when they first arrived at the school, and the kitchen appeared to still be stocked with dry and canned foods. It should have been more surprising that no one had grabbed a snack yet. None of us had really moved at all since we congregated earlier in the evening. I strode lightly out of the auditorium. I didn't want to disrupt everyone's quiet. I didn't want to add to their trouble.

I set off down the hallway, hating the way my boots squeaked on the tile.

The cafeteria was dark. I bumped into several chairs and tables as I made my way to the kitchen and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from swearing at a high volume when I stubbed my toe on the doorjamb. The high windows in the area where the food was prepared let in a fair amount of moonlight; my eyes adjusted quickly, so I was able to maneuver to the pantry and mostly make out the labels on the stacks of cans.

I bit my lip and contemplated before I grabbed the Spaghetti-O's. I loved the things, but my mom refused to buy them once I was older than ten. I fished around the drawers for a can opener and a fork, and settled on top of one of the counters to enjoy my cold meal.

I finished the can in a matter of minutes. I pulled a cigarette out of the pack I kept in my back pocket as I debated whether or not to open another. I knew it was a bad habit to get into; I'd been there for the assemblies devoted to police officers and recovered addicts who lectured us about the dangers of cigarettes and alcohol, just like every other kid in the school district had. I rolled my eyes and was reaching for my lighter when the sound of footsteps froze me where I sat. I knew Sam and Finn had blocked off all of the entrances, but they weren't carpenters by any means. Hammering some boards they broke off from the bleachers in the gym to the doors didn't guarantee that the Draggers couldn't get in. Maybe they'd gotten in before any of us did, and they'd just been hiding somewhere we hadn't checked yet.

I put the smoke away and forced myself to move, as quietly as I could manage, to find a knife or some kind of weapon. The only thing in sight was a giant ladle. I gripped its handle tightly enough that I could feel the smooth metal dig into my palms and prayed to whomever might hear that I could swing it hard enough to take one of those fuckers out.

I could hear the steps as they got closer to where I was. They ran into chairs and tables just as I had. My hands ached from holding onto the ladle so tightly, but my heartbeat refused to slow down and allow my muscles to loosen.

My heart rose into my throat, and as the footsteps neared the door to the kitchen, the sound was lost to the pounding in my ears. My stomach tightened, and I wondered if, assuming I lived past that night, my reaction to noises in the dark would always be as seizing as this. I felt tiny beads of sweat begin to gather on my forehead. I tried to wet my lips, but the inside of my mouth was as dry as the outside. My eyes were pulled open wide as they struggled to identify things in the dark. A foot poked around the door and my body felt like it contracted in on itself.

"Quinn?"

I almost threw up in a combination of relief and surprise at hearing a soft, clear voice break through the rigid silence. A body joined the foot on my side of the door, and I held a hand over my chest as I mentally willed my heart find its usual rhythm.

"Jesus, Rachel, give me a heart attack, why don't you? I feel like I'm having a stroke or something." I held up the ladle. "I almost just took your head off."

Her eyebrow lifted up into her forehead. "With a spoon?"

I scowled at her and muttered, "It's a ladle."

Humor settled in her eyes. "Right. I'm sorry for startling you. I just... thought you might want some company. This school's a pretty creepy place when it's dark like this."

"Oh... Um, thanks." Silence fell over us, and I set the ladle on the counter to have something to do with my hands. I ran a hand through my pink locks, which flopped right back to their original messy place on my head. Rachel watched me unwaveringly. The darkness shrouded her like a cloak. Only the reflection of the moonbeams that drooped in from the window shone in her eyes and reminded me that she wasn't a shadow created by my mind. It was frighteningly unnerving. Our eyes locked and her gaze bored into me. Her eyes smoldered, and I could feel a certain warmth envelop the whole of my torso. I struggled to swallow and I could practically see the battle in her mind over whether she should take that step toward me. Eventually the quiet became too much. "So... Thanks for checking up on me and everything... I think I'm going to go see Brittany and Santana."

"Oh, well... okay," she said to my retreating form as I ducked past her. "Quinn?" I stopped without turning around.

Her voice was quiet, but it wasn't small. "I just... I want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened, you know, between us. It was unfair of me to ask you to be anything you weren't ready for, and I wanted to apologize. I think I might be right in assuming that your... new look might be some kind of attempt to be more open about who you are, and I think that's great, but I also want to make sure that you aren't trying to change yourself because of me, because that's the last thing I want," she paused to pull in a long breath, having used all the air in her lungs to get as many words as she could out as quickly as possible. "I really want us not to hate each other, Quinn."

I swallowed thickly, swatted at my eyes, and continued on my way.

* * *

As I strode down the hallway of the health office, where Santana and Brittany still resided, I felt a small pang of guilt for just leaving Rachel in the kitchen the way I did. I could see that she was vulnerable and exposed, but I couldn't stand to remain any longer. It made my heart feel as if a fist had closed around it, knowing that she would seek me out like that after everything, but I could hardly look at her without feeling that unbearable ache in my chest.

When I reached the nurse's office, Santana and Brittany were sitting next to each other on the cot in the corner, whispering to each other. I knocked my knuckles on the frame of the open door before I entered and stood before them.

"Hey, guys."

"Hey, Q," Santana replied in a tired voice. I waited for an excited greeting from Brittany, but it never came. She gave me a little wave and something that wasn't quite a smile. I watched as Santana noticed the same lack of enthusiasm and let a crease depress her brow. She sighed deeply. I cocked my head to the side as she put her lips to Brittany's ear, muttered something I couldn't pick up, and gave her a soft peck on the cheek. She stood carefully, as if bumping the other girl might shatter her into a million little speckles of dust.

She led me back into the hall by the elbow and crossed her arms over her chest; I was struck by the fact that for the first time since I'd known her, it was as if to protect herself rather than to threaten others. I took half a step closer to her.

"San, what's wrong? Are... you guys okay?"

She glanced around the darkness for a while. When she settled her gaze on me again, I realized she was struggling to play the hero and keep her tears at bay. "Okay, listen, I'm gonna tell you something, but I need you to promise to stay calm, okay?"

I nodded my head and kept my lips pressed together. Whatever she was about to tell me, it was clear that Santana thought it was damn serious.

She breathed heavily through her nose. "It's Brit, she's... She..."

I put my hand on her arm in attempt to comfort her. "It's alright, just tell me."

She sniffed noisily before she whispered almost inaudibly, "B got bit, Quinn."

My veins ran ice-cold. No, no, that couldn't be right. Brittany couldn't have been infected. She probably just got nipped by Lord Tubbington and was confused, yeah, that would make sense.

It made a hell of a lot more sense than her getting bitten by a Dragger.

I shook my head as my eyebrows knit together and Santana's face became little more than a tan blur before my eyes. I didn't realize that it was partially because tears had begun to form until I stilled my head and pled with her silently to tell me she was joking or mistaken. Instead, she dissolved in front of me and rushed forward into my arms. I held her as tightly as I could. Her shoulders shook violently within my grasp, but I just strengthened my hold. "It's not fair," she gasped into my chest, "it's not fair." She clutched at my shoulder blades and I rubbed a hand over her back.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly enough to make colorful dots burst in my blackened vision. "I know."

We stood together in the middle of the hallway for some time, grieving as quietly as we could make ourselves for the third of our trio who wasn't even gone yet. But therein lay that misery: she was going to be gone, and we were unfortunate enough to know beforehand.

With a shuddering breath, Santana pulled back out of the embrace. Her voice had shifted, and I could tell that she meant to be detached in order to get everything across that needed saying. "I gave her some aspirin, and that seems to have done a little to help, but it's not going to last forever. Sooner or later, she's going to... change." She swallowed harshly when her voice cracked. "She knows that it's coming. She said... she said she doesn't want us to see her become a monster. She wants me to... take care of it. But, I can't do it, Q."

I stared at her dumbly as her words settled into the pit in my stomach, which had been growing for days. I couldn't seem to make what she said connect to the part of my brain that interpreted language. It was like trying to solve advanced algebra problems when I was half asleep. I struggled through the fog to put meaning behind her words, and when I finally did, I wished I hadn't.

"No... I... I can't, Santana. You can't be serious." She averted her eyes in a way that indicated she was more serious than she wanted to be. "San... You can't really be asking me to kill one of my best friends?"

"No, Quinn. I'm asking you to save her."

I shook my head for a second time. My cheeks were wet again.

Santana spoke more softly than I'd ever heard her. "I'd say she's got until morning, maybe."

I heard my own voice whisper, "Okay," even as I continued to whip my head from side to side. I swiped my hair out of my eyes.

"Just do me one favor," I looked over to see Brittany leaning against the doorframe. "Don't tell anyone until after, okay? I've never liked seeing people be sad."

I bobbed my head and cleared my throat. "Sure thing, Britt. Anything for you." She disappeared back into the health office after a glance in Santana's direction.

Santana squeezed my hand and went back into the nurse's office to be with the only other person in the world she'd let her walls down for. I slumped against the wall.

Their voices carried out to me, and I knew I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but I couldn't bring myself to walk away.

"San... 'Ana, look at me. There's nothing else to do about it. It's going to happen whether we want it to or not. But if I'm going to go, I don't want to live long enough to become something that would hurt you. I want to go as myself. I want to still be Brittany, not the freaky thing that used to be Brittany. Can you understand that?" I assumed Santana gave her one of those shrugs that meant yes, but wished she could say no. "Now," I could hear the tears in her voice, "since this is my last night on earth, I get a last wish, right?"

I couldn't help but smile at that.

I was sure then that Santana nodded. Santana would have given that girl her own life if she could have. Brittany's next words were muttered so quietly, I couldn't be sure I heard them. My best guess as to her request were the words, "I want sweet lady kisses." Santana choked out a watery chuckle.

"Of course, Brits."

My heart constricted, and I pushed myself off the wall. I paced slowly in the opposite direction of the auditorium. I couldn't face the others knowing what I knew. I made it around the nearest corner before I slid down one of the doors and sat on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest. Tears didn't come, but my body shivered with each breath I took.

I heard familiar footsteps approach, and when I looked up, a small form stood over me. "Are you okay? I went to find you in the nurse's office, but Santana and Brittany were the only ones in there... and they didn't look like they wanted to be interrupted."

A somewhat ironic grin ghosted over my lips. When I didn't answer right away, she stepped around my legs and sat beside me. She didn't say anything, just watched my face with gleaming eyes. I toyed my tongue around the inside of my cheek. There were a hundred things I wanted to say, and the words had evaded me until now. "Rachel... I'm sorry."

"Quinn, you don't have to-"

"No, I do. Just, let me get this out, okay? I want to say some things, and I need to keep the momentum if I'm going to make it through all of it." She opened her mouth as if to reply, but seemed to think better of it and nodded for me to say my piece.

I closed my eyes and filled my lungs as slowly as I could manage. "I really want you to know how awful I feel about everything I put you through. You were completely justified when you kicked me out; I'm actually kind of surprised you didn't do it sooner than you did."

I cast my eyes to my lap, darting my eyes up to her face when I thought I could get away with it.

"I was terrible to you. I tried to make you hide who you were - I tried to shame you for being yourself, and I hate, I hate that I could do something like that. You were the first person I've ever trusted enough to go to with my secrets that way, and I shit all over you in return. What kind of person does that?" I shook my head at myself. "You were amazing to me, and I fucked it up because I was afraid." I ran my tongue over my lips and finally met her gaze. "You were right; I did change my look for you. I wanted to show you, without having to actually tell you, that I didn't want to hide anymore. I _don't_ want to hde anymore. Whatever our relationship was, even if it wasn't real, the feelings were. I know that I broke your trust, and your heart, and I don't deserve any more chances, I just-"

I was cut off when her lips rushed forward and collided with mine. They lined up perfectly until she tilted her head and let them glide in a soft push and pull. My eyes widened in shock then slammed shut as she leaned into me. Her lips slid over mine as she caught my top lip between both of hers, and I responded without thought. Her lips were smooth and warm. My body buzzed and my mind gave over to instinct. I felt her hands clutch at the back of my neck, and mine found her waist. I gripped her hips before circling my arms more tightly around her back. When I took her bottom lip in my teeth, her fingers hooked in my hair and pulled gently. My mouth fell open, and she ran her tongue over the lower edge of my top teeth before cautiously pushing it forward to meet mine. We shifted at the same time, and our chests came together. I could feel my body flush where it came into contact with hers. The only sound in my ears was that of our mouths pulling apart and coming back together again. Her breath was hot on my face, and after several moments, I realized that the burning in my chest was from lack of air. I sucked a long breath in through my nose and the return of oxygen to my brain made me realize exactly what was happening. I pushed lightly on her shoulders and our mouths broke apart, leaving both of us panting. "Rach, what... Are you sure you want to do this with me?"

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at me through long eyelashes. "You weren't the only one who made mistakes when it came to you and me, okay? And, I've just been thinking, since this whole thing started, what better excuse to forgive someone than the end of the world?"

I blinked once blankly, searched her eyes, and pulled her back to me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Quick thank you to everyone who's been reviewing and following this story. There really is no better encouragement.**

Somewhere Safe Ch. 5

Part 3: Death is a State of Mind

Chapter 5: Puck

"I can't believe it took us this long to see if the showers still had water," I said gruffly as I pulled a t-shirt out of one of the open lockers in the boys' locker room. "We've been sitting around in the same ratty clothes and our own sweat for days. Fuck knows how bad we all must have smelled."

Finn raised an eyebrow at me, "I never pegged you for a personal hygiene type, dude."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Bro, there's a reason I was always the one to get the girls and you were just the wingman. I'm well groomed and fresh, and you don't even know how to wash your freakin' balls." His eyebrows twitched into a frown, but I continued. "Personally, I couldn't give a rat's ass if there was dirt under my fingernails, or stains in my pits after a workout. But the ladies, they catch wind of that kind of thing and you're history. So, I keep myself clean and smelling good. That way, I am literally the ultimate chick magnet." I shot a smirk in his direction. It slipped from my face when he looked away.

I sat on the bench that divided the space between the red, dented lockers and pulled my shoes back onto my feet. The locker room still held a stale stench from all of the BO that hung around in there during the school year, but it was still nice to have showered and gotten away from the pressured atmosphere of the auditorium.

The moment Quinn moved and broke the stillness in the auditorium, a need to get up, to do something, filled me; my skin started to itch from the days worth of sweat and grime that sat on top of every inch of my body.

When the other guys were done showering and dressed in the clothes that had been left in the lockers, we made our way back through the dark halls to the auditorium.

It was kind of freaky, walking around the school when it was dark and empty the way it was. It brought me back to all of the horror movies I saw in my time, hoping it would scare the girls I watched them with and get me that much closer to their pants. I kept half expecting to turn around a corner and see some dude with a butcher's knife and a hockey mask at the end of the hallway covered in blood and waiting for me.

It was easier to be afraid of that than what was really out there.

None of the girls were in the auditorium when we got back. I scratched my head. The three of us guys stood awkwardly in the aisle; we were all anxious, and worrying about the girls was already practically second nature, but the auditorium had a presence that made us not want to move. It felt like if we ran back out or made too much noise, the world might shatter, and the idea of leaving made each of us take a step back.

Eventually Sam and Finn sat down to wait, but I was jittery, and I knew sitting around would have set me even more on edge. Staying on my feet let me keep some semblance of activity. I paced between the rows of seats for a few moments. It got old quickly. I sighed and shoved my hands in my pockets.

"I'm gonna go look for them. Probably just got lost in the dark or something." I forced a cocky grin onto my lips and waited for the guys to nod that they heard me.

I sauntered out of the room, hoping to appear calm while their eyes were still on me.

I reached the hall and nearly jumped out of my skin as my heart flew out of my chest. Rachel and Quinn shrieked and gasped respectively at my sudden appearance as well.

"Ugh," I wiped a hand over my forehead. "We have got to get over this jumpiness, or I'm gonna need a new pair of shorts."

Rachel smirked and I shot her a warning glare. She averted her gaze, grin still intact, and ran her fingers through her slightly mussed hair. I eyed the action for a moment before dismissing it. "So where were you two? Sam and Finn and me were looking for you."

"And _I_, Noah," Rachel corrected.

"Whatever, Berry, just answer the question."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow and answered for her. "Where did you guys look? We were right around the corner."

I rubbed the back of my neck. Come to think of it, we didn't really look very hard. Or at all. They just weren't in the same halls as us or the auditorium, and we got worried. "Uh, you know, the hallway, the auditorium, the... boys' locker room..."

Quinn chuckled quietly. "Ah, yes, I can see why you were concerned. If we weren't in the boys' locker room, we must have been in grave peril."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. It's not like there's no reason to be a little nervous."

Rachel came over to me and reached up to place a hand on my shoulder. "Alright. We get it, okay? Sorry for worrying you." She stepped beside me and looped her arm through mine. "So... We were thinking of maybe doing a little exploring. I've always wondered what kind if things get left behind in the school over the summer. We might even find some supplies or something. Want to come along?"

I glanced at Quinn to gauge her reaction, but her eyes were on her boots. I looked back down to see Rachel's shining, hopeful eyes and felt myself physically cave.

"Alright, I'm in. Where to first?"

Rachel pursed her lips. "Do you know if anyone's been to the teachers' lounge or Sylvester's office yet?"

"No, I think Finn and Sam mostly just tried to get around to all of the doors that led outside... and the caf."

"Coach Sylvester's office is closest, we could head there first," Quinn offered.

I nodded and Rachel smiled, so we set off down the hallway. Rachel kept her arm hooked with mine at the elbow, but I saw her hand gravitate toward Quinn's. I watched as discreetly as I could while Quinn took her time deciding whether or not to take it. That was weird.

My eyebrows shot up when she not only grabbed Rachel's hand, but linked their fingers together. That was _really_ weird.

When Rachel's thumb started brushing back and forth, I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head. What the hell was that all about? I opened my mouth to ask, because seriously, they didn't say a word to each other the whole two days we were all hunkered down in the coffee shop, and now they were playing, like, hand footsie or something.

My words died on my tongue when I saw Quinn's eyes. The way she was looking at Rachel was enough to turn even my heart to a dripping puddle of mush. I could see her lips fighting the dopey grin that worked its way up her cheeks. Her eyes were softer than I'd ever seen them, and she actually looked... happy.

It was the look I used to pretend I didn't have on my face when I looked at her. But that was the past. I knew whatever I had with Quinn was long over, and we'd both moved on. I just never expected her to find what she was looking for in Rachel Berry.

I kept my mouth clamped shut. As much as I wanted to ask them how they managed to get together, I knew it wasn't my place to confront them. I couldn't tell them that I could see through them both, and that it was okay, but what I sure as hell could do was be there for them. I'd dated both of them, and now they were the two people I cared about most in a non-romantic sense. It was weird, but for whatever reason, it was right.

We reached Sylvester's office, and it somehow instilled the same feeling of intimidation as it did when the coach was in it. Her numerous trophies gleamed on the shelves around the room; they reflected the white light from the moon that shone in through the blinds on the window. An elliptical with a sweat towel draped over the front sat in one corner, and a giant red exercise ball rested on one of the pedals. I'd never been inside the office before - Sue Sylvester scared the living shit out of me. Anyone who said they weren't afraid of that dragon lady was lying out of their ass.

Quinn wandered around the room; her eyes roamed every inch of the place. It had to be weird, especially for her, to explore the place without Sylvester's eyes withering her with that terrifying glare she always had. Quinn's gaze lingered on all of the trophies she'd had a part in winning. I could only imagine what it must have been like for her to see them and realize that she probably wouldn't ever live that part of her life again.

I smirked when I noticed Rachel discreetly following behind her, eyes darting between the back of Quinn's head and something quite a bit lower. Oh man, this was too good.

I sauntered over to the desk and plopped myself down in the chair behind it. I pushed the seat back so that I could put my feet up, but a glint caught my eye. I leaned down and forward to inspect the shiny metal object hidden under the haughty desk.

"Holy shit, the old bitch kept a fucking samurai sword under her desk!"

Rachel rushed over to see. Quinn just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Of course she did."

I pulled it out into the open, causing Rachel to jerk out of its way. She shot me a look and I shrugged an apology.

Quinn approached the opposite side of the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. She scrunched her lips to one side before she asked, with some effort, "Can I have it?"

I raised my eyebrows and scoffed. "Finders keepers, Blondie."

Her arms fell forward and she gripped the edge of the desk. "Come on, Puck. You and the guys all have baseball bats, Rachel and Santana both got their hands on a gun, if we do wind up having to use weapons, all I've got is a fucking steak knife."

I bit my cheek and huffed out my nose. That samurai sword was basically the coolest thing I had ever had my hands on, and that included the tits of the girl asking for it. But, if Quinn died because she didn't have anything to defend herself with, I would hate myself - the kind of hate you don't ever get past. I sighed and dropped the sword on the desk. "Fine. But if you die I'm taking that thing from your corpse."

I stood. "Let's do the teachers' lounge. I'm pretty sure Schuester keeps liquor hidden in there."

Rachel looked scandalized. "Why would you say a thing like that?"

I heaved one heavy chuckle. "How else do you think he lived with the fact that he taught glee club?"

* * *

I opened one of the cabinets and sifted through the cans of ground coffee and boxes of sweetener packets. To my right, Rachel rested a hand on the handle to the cabinet before her. "You don't really think we're going to find a bottle of alcohol in here, do you?" She needled.

"Nope," I replied. "I think we'll find at least two."

I moved on to the next cubby and yanked the door open. "Ah, jackpot!" I grabbed the bottle by the neck and dangled the almost untouched Jack Daniels for the girls to see. "What did I tell you?"

Quinn, who sat at one of the tables rather than assisting in our search, closed her eyes as her shoulders shook in silent laughter. Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but she seemed to decide against it and clonked it shut again. She took a deep breath in through her nose and tried again. "Well, maybe it was for some kind of celebration among the staff - a birthday, perhaps. You don't even know who it belongs to; personally, I would put my money on Mrs. Ohlson. She always seems to sway a little at the front of the classroom, if you ask me."

I turned the bottle around, let out a bark of laughter, and read aloud the label taped to the back. "_Property of Will Schuester. Emergency whiskey. Do not touch._"

Rachel's mouth dropped open in shock, and I tossed the bottle in her direction so she could see for herself. The momentary panic on her face was clear and hilarious as she scramble to catch it.

I cocked my head at the girls with a smug grin smeared over my lips. "You know we have to play a drinking game now."

Rachel balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips, the bottle jutting out awkwardly to one side. Her eyes sent imaginary flaming knives flying into me. I could tell she was about to give me an earful, when Quinn spoke up and surprised both of us.

"That's actually not a terrible idea." Rachel whipped her head in Quinn's direction, and her hair flew around her like a skirt blown in a breeze. Quinn met her eyes and rolled her shoulders. "We've all been so wound up from this whole thing, it could be good for us to let loose for a night. We're safe in here, why not have a little fun while we can?" She turned back to me with purpose. "I'm in."

Rachel's mouth opened and closed as she fought to find a response. She looked back and forth between me and Quinn; we both wore the same raised-eyebrow expression in attempt to convince her. She pursed her lips and I smiled when I recognized it as her annoyed compliance.

She rolled her shoulders back and made to lead us out of the room. "I hope I get drunk and throw up on both of you."

* * *

We sat in a cluster near the front of the auditorium. Rachel and Quinn sat on the floor with their backs against the stage. I sat to one side, between the first row of seats and the edge of the band pit. Finn and Sam sat against the front of the folded chairs, and Santana and Brittany dropped down across from me once they made their way in from the nurse's office.

Santana leaned back on her hands and crossed her legs at the ankles. "Well, what're we waiting for? Break out the Jack, let's get this party going." I could see she was trying to come off as her usual give-no-fucks self, but I could tell something was a little off.

"So," Finn rubbed his hands together, an excited gleam in his eye, "what are we gonna do? Strip poker?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned over to punch him in the shoulder. "What are we gonna play with, dude? Are you hiding a deck of cards in your man boobs?"

He frowned and slumped back. "I don't hear you spouting any great ideas."

Sam lifted his arm, as if he were raising his hand in class. I nodded for him to speak when he didn't right away. "Yes, Sam?"

"Well, I was just thinking we could play Never Have I Ever. All we need is the booze and our secrets." He wiggled his eyebrows at that last part.

"Perfect."

I unscrewed the cap and set the bottle in the middle of our little huddled circle, "Alright, Sam," I announced, "you came up with the game; you go first."

"Fair enough," he clapped his hands together. "Let's see, never have I ever... been drunk."

His mouth dropped open slightly when everyone in the circle around him took a swig from the bottle. Everyone but myself and Santana made a sour face at the burn.

"Wait a minute," I held a hand up. "Berry, when the hell have you ever been drunk, and why was I not there to witness it?"

Rachel crossed her arms indignantly. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm so innocent all the time. I've done plenty of things none of you would expect me to."

I leaned forward a bit as an excited grin worked its way onto my lips. "Like what? You been getting down 'n' dirty and not telling me about it?"

She gave a sneaky little shrug and refocused her attention on the bottle, which had been passed to Finn.

"Um... never have I ever... kissed a guy."

All of the girls took a sip, and my eyebrows weren't the only ones to raise when Sam followed their lead. When he replaced the bottle in the middle of the group, he looked around sheepishly and shrugged. "They always say, don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

I burst out laughing when Finn tried to inconspicuously scoot away from him and the girls all shook their heads in amusement.

The bottle went to Santana. She swirled the brown liquid around the glass lazily as she pondered how to phrase what she wanted to say. Eventually she smirked and said, "Never have I ever jerked off in a public bathroom."

I glared at her and took the bottle. "Look, either you and Brittany need to stop making out in front of me or you need to learn how to knock."

Santana grabbed the bottle back and handed it to Brittany. The blonde tapped her chin. Her face lit up when she thought of something. "Never have I ever had sex in the school."

She proceeded to take a long swig from the bottle. The liquor clinked gently on the glass as she set it back down. Santana took it and paused to whisper in her girl's ear, "Britt, remember, you're supposed to say stuff you haven't done so that you don't have to drink," before she pulled a gulp herself.

No one was surprised when I drank - everyone has heard the tales of my many conquests - but when Quinn and Rachel both drank, a collective expression of shock took hold of the group. Quinn looked casually around, and Rachel seemed almost pleased with herself.

"I told you I've done things you wouldn't expect."

She held onto the bottle, since it was her turn next. She grasped the neck of it with both hands as she tried to think of something to say. "Um... I've never... smoked. Cigarettes, weed, bath salts, whatever."

To my surprise, Quinn was the first to drink. She must have been growing immune to the burn; her face didn't scrunch up at all this time around. As badass as her new image was, I honestly thought it was all for show. I didn't think she was actually as fucked up as she was trying to make herself look. I surveyed her, unsure if she was even being truthful. She caught my gaze and pulled a half-full pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket and tossed it in the center of the circle for everyone to see. Even Santana had an expression that crossed between shocked and impressed.

She took the whiskey next. "I'm more of a cigar girl, myself."

I snagged the bottle from her hands. "You can all just ask my friends, Mary, Juan, and Anna." I chuckled at my own little joke and took a swig.

* * *

The game went on in much the same way for some time. We all grew increasingly buzzed, and the confessions increased in hilarity accordingly.

"Never have I ever dyed my hair." (Quinn and Sam both pulled, the latter a bit grudgingly. We all assured him that lemon juice absolutely still counted.)

"Never have I ever peed my pants in public."

"Never have I ever spied on neighbors doing it with binoculars." (Finn and I high-fived before we each took a drink.)

"Never have I ever owned leather pants."

"Never have I ever skinny dipped at the town pool."

"Never have I ever done Jell-O shots."

"Never have I ever done body shots." (Everyone except for Finn and Rachel chuckled fondly at the memories that surfaced as they took their drinks for that round.)

"Never have I ever had a sex dream about a teacher."

"Never have I ever had a secret relationship." (My brows were the only of the three of us guys that didn't furrow when all four girls in the room drank.)

"Never have I ever done it with someone's mom."

"Never have I ever been so stoned I couldn't walk."

"Never have I ever killed a Dragger." The playful chatter amongst the group halted abruptly. Finn stared at the group with an expression that showed he clearly didn't understand why what he said made most of us wince. I tried to cover the choking sensation I felt by taking my drink and pretending to cough over it. I closed my eyes when the thought, To Mr. Schuester, cheers, crossed through my mind.

Brittany's eyes flowed over the group once before she took the bottle and raised it up. "Never have I ever loved everyone in this room." She tipped the bottle up and took a long pull of the whiskey, and a relieved-of-tension smile broke out on each of our faces.

* * *

By the time the whiskey was all but finished, every one of us was sufficiently drunk, if not totally gone. Sam was passed out on the floor, Santana had burst out into tears for no apparent reason, Brittany's eyes were red and puffy, and I had no idea how much of it was from the alcohol, Finn sat in the corner shaking his head at himself and finishing what little was left at the bottom of the bottle, and Rachel and Quinn had disappeared. I thought I remembered something about them saying something about going to the bathroom or something, and something about the buddy system, but I was moving on past buzzed at that point, so I wasn't really sure if it was a memory or a really good dream.

I'd found a little leftover baggy of giggle grass in my pocket and rolled myself a pity joint. It did take the edge off. I sat in one of the chairs and giggled at the nonsensical scene around me.

Eventually Quinn and Rachel returned from their little excursion, and I found myself cackling like some kind of manic hyena at the fact that the button was now missing from Rachel's shorts, and Quinn's shirt was on inside-out. They looked around cautiously as they stumbled up the aisle to make sure no one suspected anything, but everyone except for me was caught up in their own little world. Quinn shot me a deadly look, and my eyes widened in fear for a minute until I couldn't contain it anymore and let out one long string of chuckles at the dark, threatening scowl she gave me.

As I sat there, my laughter slowed until it stopped coming at all. I grew tired, more tired than I could remember being in my life. Everything was suddenly a dream. Or maybe it wasn't. I couldn't tell the difference. I sat in my chair unable to move. You're not supposed to move when you're dreaming, you let the dream move you. But this wasn't a dream. Or maybe it was. Every time I blinked it seemed to take forever. I could hear my stomach growling quietly in the distance. It was like hearing a dog warning a stranger on the street not to come too close to its master's house from inside your own house across the street. I couldn't move. Getting up to find food took way more energy than I had. How much weed had I smoked? Did I even smoke weed? Was that part of the dream too?

I leaned my head back over the top of my chair. My vision was upside-down. I could feel myself shutting down and going to sleep.

The last thing I remembered seeing was Quinn walking Brittany out of the auditorium arm-in-arm. Quinn had the samurai sword with her, and Brittany was clutching her stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for the insane amount of time it's taken to update this time around. It's actually not possible to articulate how busy I've been - I hope you'll be able to forgive me. I threw in a steamy bit at the end in attempt to make up for my absence. As always, thank you so much to followers, favorite-ers, and reviewers. I'm here for you.**

Somewhere Safe

Part 3

Chapter 6: Rachel

When I woke up, I immediately wished I hadn't **  
**  
I had no idea what time it was, why I was sprawled halfway off the stage, or what was pressing my brain so harshly against my skull. I groaned and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. It relieved some of the pain, so I kept them there until kaleidoscope colors swam in my vision.

I lay still, hoping that sleep might overtake me again and I would wake up with a less severe hangover. The pounding in my head held all of my attention, and I struggled to breathe deeply to lessen the pulse in my temples. It was difficult to hear anything over the sound of my own thoughts, cursing alcohol and its after effects, but for a moment I thought I heard a whimpering sound. I strained my ears to find it again, but I quickly found that the effort caused an even greater ache in my head.

I cracked one eye open and checked to make sure that the sound wasn't coming out of my own mouth. A short-lived sigh of relief slipped out of my lips and I closed my eye again.

I had almost managed to lull myself back to sleep when an ear splitting bang ruptured the quiet and my physical reaction sent me flying over the edge of the stage onto the floor below. I moaned deeply and curled into myself a little before I brought my torso up to a sitting position. The corners of my lips turned dramatically downward at the rude awakening.

I looked up to see Quinn letting the auditorium door swing back shut as she came weaving down the aisle clumsily with an armful of plastic water bottles. She stumbled into one of the rows and threw out an arm to catch herself, effectively losing most of her load to the ground's clutches. She watched them as they tumbled down the rows for some time, her face reactionless.

I clambered sluggishly to my feet. I swayed precariously for a moment as the blood that rushed between my ears disoriented me. I held my hands out to steady my body for a few seconds before I deemed it safe to move. I ambled over to where she fumbled to regain hold of the plastic bottles that rolled every which way down the slope of the seats. I grabbed the two nearest to me and handed one to her as I unscrewed the cap on the other and drank greedily. I drained the contents of mine in a matter of seconds. My water was almost completely gone by the time Quinn had given up on collecting the remaining scattered bottles and opened her own. Her expression was blank.

When she finally took a minute sip, I said with a despondent chuckle, "Some night, huh?"

Her chest seemed to stutter as she pulled a long breath in through her nose. She didn't meet my eyes.

I frowned slightly and wandered down a few steps to pick up a second water. I sucked down half of it and climbed back up the steps to where Quinn still stood. Her eyes were closed, and I could see her cheek poking in where she was biting it.

I sat on one of the risers, pulled my lip between my teeth, and tugged on the hem of her shorts to indicate that she should sit next to me. After a moment, during which she swallowed several times, she bent her knees slowly, like someone with arthritis might, and sat beside me on the step. She exhaled deeply as she rested her elbows on her thighs and buried her face behind her fingers. I heard her mutter something into her palms and leaned forward to try and make out what she was saying.

"What was that? I can't hear you when you're talking into your hands."

Quinn's hands dropped to her knees with a slap, and her eyes stared ahead of her, void of connection to reality. Her mouth sat open, and I was about to wave my hand in front of her face when she whispered, "What the fuck has happened to the world?"

She mouthed the words a second time before she blinked and was present again. She turned her head in my direction. Her jaw was slack, and I watched as moisture built up in her eyes until it spilled over onto her cheek like a raindrop on porcelain.

"Quinn..."

Her eyes darted to mine as her breathing picked up. I could see she was struggling to maintain some semblance of composure. She held my gaze as words came tumbling out of her mouth. "I don't know what's going on anymore. Everything has gone so far to shit, I can barely tell what's real. Everything is falling apart around me and I can't do a fucking thing about it. People are dying and we're sitting here, waiting it out in the high school auditorium and playing dumb fucking drinking games. We're wandering around McKinley with the lights off, trying to ignore the fact that everything we love is crumbling in our hands." Her eyes were growing manic, but for once, I couldn't figure out how to interject. "The world is burning out there, and we're just hiding in a corner, hoping someone will save us and we'll live long enough to die of natural causes."

Tears fell down her cheeks in rivulets, and I could feel the lump in my throat growing into a painful mound. I saw her forming more erratic, distressing words in her head and the only way I could think of to cut them off was with my lips. I kissed her as hard as I knew how. I kissed her to let her know that I was there, that this was real. That this was something she could hold onto, if nothing else. I used my lips to say the things that words couldn't convey. She returned the kiss with fervor. Her hair fell across my cheeks and her hands fell onto my neck. Her breath was hard and staggered. The pressure from her lips increased, and I had to brace myself to keep from falling backward. It was clear she wasn't pushing intentionally, but the force with which she kissed me was powerful. I felt the wetness on her cheeks as the brushed my own; when I realized that the tears were still flowing steadily from her eyes, I pulled away as gently as I could.

Quinn met my gaze for a still, charged moment before she collapsed into my shoulder and gave into the sobs that tore their way through her body. I brought my arms around her back and lifted a hand to stroke her hair. I didn't shush her or ask her why she was upset or make false promises about everything being okay. I knew it wasn't okay, and I knew it wouldn't make her feel any better to have meaningless placations fed to her. I just ran my fingers over her scalp and held her as closely as the laws of physics would allow; I knew right then that if it were ever what she wanted, I would never let go.

After several minutes, in which the only sounds in the room were the wet sniffs and exhalations of Quinn's tears, the tension in her arms around my waist let up slightly and she lifted her head from the space between my shoulder and my neck. There was now a large, salty stain in my shirt where her eyes had released the pain and confusion that had been building since this whole thing started.

I could feel the ache in her voice when she whispered, "I'm sorry, Rachel."

My chest constricted. I forced an ironic grin onto my mouth. I shrugged the shoulder with the tear stain on it and replied, "It's just a shirt." I knew her words carried more implication than an apology for the streaks on my shoulder, but I couldn't bare to let her take on any more regret or worry than had already settled in the birdcage of her chest. "Come here."

I laid down sideways on the step and pulled her with me. I curled my body around her and maneuvered so that her head rested with her ear over my heart. She burrowed as far into my embrace as she could. "Rachel, I need to tell you something..."

She didn't say anything after that; she slipped into a state of pause, and I could see her struggling to find the words.

"I'm here, Quinn. Whenever you're ready."

She nodded almost imperceptibly and her eyes closed. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out. I saw one last droplet leak from her eye before my eyes slipped shut as well.

_I stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. The right side of my body was hot where Quinn lay, half on top of me; the left was cold, but I knew I would only overheat if I got under the blanket. Part of me wanted to throw my free leg over her hip and complete our entanglement, but another part of me wanted to pull away completely, so I remained still, in a physical gridlock between the battling sides of the argument between my head and my heart. She shifted slightly and the aroma of her hair engulfed my nose. It was sweet and subtle and it brought a painfully expected ache to my chest. I sucked a long breath in through my nose and willed the pricks in my eyes to stay away until I was alone. I bit my lip and steeled my resolve._

_I turned onto my side and whispered in her ear. "Quinn?" The sound did nothing to wake her. I cleared my throat quietly and tried again. "Quinn... Quinn, wake up."_

_She rolled her head around with her eyes closed as if she were rejecting the idea of leaving sleep. She smothered her face in my collarbone and sighed. "Rach, what time is it? Are your dads awake? Just hide me under the covers this time."_

_I swallowed with difficulty. "No, they're not awake."_

_She mumbled into my chest as she curled closer into me, "Oh. Good. Just get me up when the sun comes up." Her lips brushed the skin just above my breast, and I bit my cheek, heartbroken that she was so easily willing to show such intimate affection in the darkness of my bedroom when no one knew she was there._

_"I..." I licked my lips. "I don't think I can do this anymore."_

_Her eyes finally cracked open._

_She peered at me from across the floor with a look just off the key of regret. The Lima Bean felt much smaller than it used to. I leaned against the counter that held the packets of sugar substitutes and pitchers of half-and-half. She watched me as if in a daze; she lowered herself into a booth without adjusting her gaze. Her lips parted just so, as if she were about to say something, but I couldn't hear her voice over the soft, flowy music that started playing._

_The elevator rose haltingly. I chanced peeks at her through my eyelashes every couple of minutes, but she stared determinedly at the rows of buttons on the wall. I felt my heart urging my hand to span the foot and a half and take hers; it was a pull that had been growing stronger since before I knew what to do with it. I clasped my hands behind my back. _

_My eyes tracked her tongue as it slid out to trace her lips. The lift jerked, and she took a step closer to me, for balance. She threw a hand out to steady herself, and her fingertips brushed my shoulder. Her eyes flashed to me, darted between my own eyes and my mouth. She took a drawn out, hesitant second step in m direction. My heart fluttered against my ribs._

_The elevator chimed to inform us that we'd arrived at a floor, and the doors opened to a chaotic hallway. Draggers snarled in every direction, coated in grimy, unidentifiable substances. All of their faces were sunken, their eyes like milk in water. Tears in what remained of their clothing exposed jagged wounds circled by dark jelly. Panic filled my body. My lungs couldn't find enough air to breathe. Two Draggers at the end of the hall turned at the same time and locked onto me. Time slowed down as they shuffled in my direction. Dad, Daddy. Drops fell down my face. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could._

_I opened them again and gasped as a pair of lips worked over my throat. My fingers gripped pink-blonde hair. Quinn shifted on top of me, and my shoulder blades dug into the tile of the school's floor, but I couldn't find it in me to care. Her lips were warm. She flattened her tongue and dragged it up my neck to my jaw, where she nibbled her way to my earlobe. She pulled it between her teeth lightly, and I could feel the want in her bite. Her hands found my breasts, and I struggled to suppress the ensuing moan; her mouth came to my lips and she swallowed the sound. Her tactile lips slid over mine until I parted them to allow her tongue. My breath came in pants. Her thigh came between my legs, and I rose off of the ground in pleasure. I heard myself beg breathlessly for more. _

_She pulled her lips from mine and her eyes bore into me. Her pupils were dilated and sincere. _

_"Quinn, please."_

_She smiled ever so slightly as she took in my face. "Sam."_

_Everything froze. "What?"_

"Sam, for fuck's sake!"

I blinked rapidly as I fought the sleep that willed me back into its clutches. For a moment, all I could see was a piece of gum stuck to the underside of one of the auditorium chairs, until I felt something move at my side, and swerved my eyes to see Quinn waking up as well. I grinned momentarily at the way she balled her hands into fists and rubbed at her eyes.

"Sam, jesus christ! Calm down!"

I sat up and searched for the source of the yelling that had woken me. By the stage, Puck had Sam around the waist, holding him back as the blonde boy struggled to get free. Sam's face was red and contorted. He reached and flailed his arms toward a very small-looking Santana, who stared hard at the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Sam grunted and puffed as he struggled to free himself. "Let me go, Puckerman!"

I stood hastily and rushed down the stairs to attempt to mediate the situation.

"What on earth is going on down here?"

Sam finally jerked out of Puck's hold and shook his severely wrinkled shirt back into place. He pointed furiously in Santana's direction and spoke in a suddenly deadly calm tone. "Ask her."

I turned to face the girl, not entirely sure I wanted to know whatever it was that was causing such distress within our little group.

Santana took several difficult breaths before she looked up and met my eyes. Hers brimmed with moisture that threatened to spill over at any moment. She started to open her mouth, but closed it again before any sound could get out.

I felt movement behind me, and I turned to see a flash of pink as Quinn walked purposely past me to her friend and wordlessly took Santana's hand. I noticed the brunette squeeze it, but it was a small movement, and I couldn't be entirely sure that it actually happened.

Santana closed her eyes and licked her lips before she attempted to speak again. When she did, her voice was surprisingly clear. "Brittany's dead."

My mouth dropped open in shock. Quinn put an arm around Santana's shoulders, and the boys had varying degrees of the same grim expression on their face.

Sam was livid. "She's not just dead, though, is she? You goddamn killed her!"

"Sam!" I looked at him, horror stricken. "How could you possibly say something like that?"

"Rachel," I turned back to see Quinn regarding me with sorry eyes. Her voice was quiet, but it still seemed to echo throughout the room. "Brittany was infected. There was no other way."

There was a tension-filled pause before Sam spat, "That's bullshit."

Tears had formed streaks on Santana's cheeks by the time she answered. "I saw the bite! She was changing; she told me she didn't want to die as monster. There wasn't anything else to do."

"Nothing else to do? It's a disease! The people at the CDC are probably making a cure right now. But Brittany's never going to get a chance to get better, now. How are we all supposed to live with that?"

"Sam, get real. The CDC isn't going to be able to anything to save the people who get infected." Quinn stared him down. "Once you change, that's it. There is no turning back. Brittany asked that we end it before she turned into something that would hurt any of us. I'm not going to let you give Santana any shit for doing what Britt wanted."

Sam breathed harshly through his nose for a moment as he looked around at the rest of us with contempt. After a second's hesitation, he turned sharply and fumed off in the direction of the gym.

A deep breath later, Santana walked briskly up the aisle in the opposite direction. For some reason, I felt the urge to go after her, but as I made to follow in her wake, a hand on my wrist stopped me.

Quinn's voice was low. "She needs to be alone right now."

"But-"

"Come on. I need a smoke."

We made our way out of the auditorium, up the stairs, and to the large window in the main hallway that overlooked the school's main entrance. So you knew about Brittany." She nodded, though I could tell she knew it wasn't really a question. I leaned against the sill and commented in a monotone, "I think I've cried myself out. I can't feel this. I can't _feel_ that Brittany isn't here anymore. It's like I'm numb inside." Quinn pushed the window open just a crack and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.

She regarded me with understanding. "I think it's okay not to feel sometimes. It's okay to feel things that don't necessarily match up with the situation, or what you think you're supposed to feel. You just... feel what you need to to get through it."

We stood in silence for a moment as she retrieved a cigarette from the box and twirled it mindlessly between her fingers.

I watched as she put the stick to her lips and deftly lit the end, almost hypnotized by the action. When she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and blew out a smooth stream of grey smoke, I couldn't help but comment. "I have to say, as much as I despise the health risks and damage you're doing to your body by smoking those things, I do find myself ironically turned on by your chain-smoking habits."

She brought her gaze up to meet mine, and her eyes blazed with something I could only identify as hunger. Her eyes were dangerously dark. She took another long drag before she dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with her toe. Her eyes never moved from my face. She approached me slowly until I licked my lips and dropped my gaze over her body.

She took another step forward and backed me forcefully into the wall, pinning me with her hips. Her mouth was hot on mine as I willingly allowed her tongue to ravage my mouth and neck. Every nerve in my body hummed. I could feel the heat growing, burning my body from the inside out. I clawed at her back and responded with a quick, sharp bite on her lower lip. She gasped and lifted me with shocking strength; I wrapped my legs around her waist, my back still against the wall. Her hands were everywhere. Heat pooled between my legs, and I tugged on a fistful of pink hair when her hips rocked forward against my center. I brought our lips back into sync and pulled her t-shirt up enough to let my hands slip underneath. Her fingers found the button of my shorts.

We grieved together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I know, it has been forever. I am sorry for that. Life, as it has a tendency to do, has been eating my time. Unfortunately, for now, I believe that it shall continue to do so. However, I shall also continue to work on the coming chapters. Thank you all so much for sticking with me thus far and to those of you who will remain in the future. I am entirely grateful to those who follow, favorite, and review. Thank you all. And away we go.**

Somewhere Safe

Part 4: Songs of Desperation

Chapter 7: Santana

I wrapped my arms around my legs pulled to my chest and buried my face in my knees. It was unspeakably dark in the locker room, but my eyes adjusted quickly and somehow the darkness was comforting; for once it was nice not to be seen. The tile of the floor was cool and unforgiving. The air was heavy, and I relished the fact that it made it more difficult to breathe.

I made myself as small as I possibly could, curled into myself in the corner. Tears fell from my eyes with each blink. I hardly noticed.

My breath came in short, insignificant gasps as the situation of my new reality crashed around my head and turned sound to static.

Brittany got bitten.

Brittany was dead.

Brittany was gone.

Brittany.

_We met on the first day of kindergarten. As would be expected, the first thing the teacher wanted to do with the class was have circle time and play a name game so we could all get to know each other. She took a seat cross-legged directly across from me, to Teacher's left. Naturally, when the class was asked to share our names and a fun fact about ourselves, Brittany's hand shot up, and she was introducing herself before Teacher could open her mouth to call on her._

_She sat herself up on her knees and clasped her little hands together as she said, "Hi, I'm Brittany, and my fun fact is that this weekend I'm adopting a kitten and his name is going to be Mr. Tubbington."_

_The circle of kids erupted into a collective fit of giggles; even Teacher cracked a good-natured grin before quieting everyone down and moving on to the next student._

_After circle time, we were set free for a while to play with the blocks and books spread around the room. Most of the boys immediately gravitated to the tubs of legos and began construction on a tower. The girls scattered in groups, and I watched in dismay as they closed off in little bunches and left me alone in the center of the carpet. I felt my lips droop into a frown as I looked left and right for someone who seemed as alone as I was. Quinn, the only one of my friends from pre-school who came to the same elementary school as me, had been placed in a different class, and I shrank under the fear of being in a new place without any allies._

_I was just about to put my hands on my hips and march over to the kids throwing play-doh at each other and demand that they let me play with them - whether they liked it or not - when there was a tap on my shoulder and I whipped around to be confronted with a pair of electric blue eyes and a disarmingly kind smile._

_"Hi. You're Santana, right? I'm Brittany. Do you want to play princesses with me?" She gestured to the bin full of dress-up clothes._

_I grinned more widely than I'd even known was possible._

_At the end of the day I told her that her new kitten's name should be Lord, rather than Mister. She was a princess, so that made him royalty, too._

Whenever people saw me and Brittany together, they assumed that I was the protector. I always walked around with my HBIC, take-no-prisoners attitude; it was an easy persona to take on. Seeming like the meanest chick around and having people walk along with a slight fear of me was better than letting them know me and not care. Brittany was the only one who'd ever really managed to penetrate that wall. People never realized that she had always been the one who saved me, even from the beginning.

My heart rate picked up as my breath came in short gasps and hacking sobs.

I loved her more than I knew what to do with. She made me feel things that I thought were made up, strictly for storybook endings and stupid romantic movies. She was all of the things I never thought I'd have. It was an intense, free-fall sort of love, the kind that made me feel like I would cease to exist if I ever lost her, the kind where I was convinced that my heart didn't really live in my own chest, but rather somewhere between her lungs. It was a love in which I treasured every brush of her skin, every flash of her eyes to mine. She was the best friend that became more than, but never lost that foundation. She was that one person who brought me out of my own head into a world that wasn't quite the one everyone else lived in, but one all our own. I lost myself in her, and found myself at the same time. Being with her made my heart ache in a way that I never wanted to end.

It was never just about the physical aspects of the relationship, as so many high school sweethearts' were. It was a feeling deep from within my core; it was ingrained in me, a love that I would never let go of. She was a part of me. Every trace of our lips was more than a kiss. Intimacy was more than sex. Everything between us was more than anything else.

When I heard the word 'love', I saw her. I smelled her hair, tasted her skin, heard her voice, felt the glance of her fingertips that made every synapse in my body hum.

And there it was - that feeling in my gut; or somewhere just below. People call it butterflies, but that never quite matched up for me. It was never as light or simple as an insect flapping its paper-thin wings. It was like sitting in an airplane or a roller coaster car, when the entire mass of the vehicle dropped for a split second, and it felt like falling out of the sky only to be pulled back up again. That feeling took over every time she looked at me.

_The locker room was empty, save the two of us. She sidled up behind me and wrapped her long arms around my middle as I closed the locker in front of me. Her breath was hot on my neck, and goosebumps rippled over every inch of my skin. I struggled to keep my heart rate from speeding up, but no matter how often we met like this in secret, the danger and excitement of the possibility of being caught was enough to make my heart pound hard enough that I worried that the sound of it alone would draw someone's attention._

_I breathed in deeply in attempt to calm the monstrous wings flapping in my chest. I could almost feel the smirk on her face as my lungs expanded and pushed my back farther into her embrace. I turned idly in her arms to face her, and her eyes were alight with mischievous merriment as she backed me slowly but surely into the lockers behind me._

_She took small steps toward me, almost imperceptibly closing all distance between us. Her hips pressed into mine, and I licked my lips in anticipation. She leaned down and closed in, inch by agonizing inch, and stopped just short of full contact._

_"You are such a tease," I sighed breathily and unnecessarily. Her smirk came back in an instant, and a soft chuckle blew over my face; she knew exactly what she was doing._

_She dipped her head and traced up my neck with the tip of her nose. I sighed and suddenly her mouth was a centimeter from mine._

_"Hey San?" Her voice was so low, I wasn't completely sure she'd actually said anything._

_My eyelids grew hooded, and my voice was even quieter than hers. "Yeah, Britt?"_

_She blinked once, twice, before she spoke again. This time her voice, though still low in volume, was strong and clear._

_"I love you."_

_There was no fear or hesitation in her eyes. Her words were completely honest, and I could feel the truth of it radiating from her body into mine._

_I brought my hands up to either side of her jaw and smiled more genuinely than I could remember ever doing. I lurched forward the remaining centimeter and kissed her with as much force as I could without actually hurting her. I wrapped my arms around her neck as her fingertips dug into my hips. I took a breath through my nose. Her eyes sparkled and in that moment, we both knew._

_"I love you, too."_

And now she was gone. The other half of our collective whole.

She was gone and it felt like the world was collapsing in on me. I swiped harshly at the moisture on my cheeks, though the tears stubbornly continued to spill from my eyes. I sucked in deep breaths with effort. Eventually my pulse slowed and I stood precariously, using the bench in the middle of the cubby of lockers for balance. I stuck my hands out and half felt my way through the semi-darkness to the bathroom section of the locker room. I leaned heavily on the sink and turned on the tap to splash my face with water.

My cheeks were hot; the locker room had always been one of the warmest spots in the school, and crying as much as I had had overheated my body. The sorrow that encompassed me was like no sadness anyone had ever known. And yet it was mingled with something else. There was an inkling of anger that kept me afloat in the sea of pain that threatened to drown me.

Sam.

Where the fuck did he get off telling me I should have let the girl I love become a monster against her own will? Who did he think he was? She was my girlfriend. She was my goddamn soulmate. She asked me to do it. She didn't want to be something that would hurt any of us. She would never have wanted to hurt anyone. How could he say that we did the wrong thing in stopping that from happening to her? How could he ask us to let her change? He had no right. He didn't get a say.

I watched my hazy reflection in the mirror. The lack of light gave everything a grainy, unclear aesthetic quality. I imagined for a second that I was disintegrating. It was surprisingly calming.

A distant voice broke me from my solitude, and I closed my eyes to collect myself.

Swift footfalls pounded in my direction and halted in the locker room's entrance. My eyelids lifted to reveal a heavily breathing Finn leaning against the door frame, his features slightly illuminated by the somehow still lit emergency exit sign. "Santana."

I turned back to the mirror, hoping he wouldn't notice the puffiness I could still feel in my abused eyes. I rubbed my hands over my cheeks and forced a half-hearted smirk onto my face. I met his gaze in the mirror's reflection. "What's up, Finnessa? Need some help tying your shoes? I know it's a tough one to learn, and really, I can't imagine how you'd reach from way up there anyway."

It was low, I knew - it wasn't even a good joke - but hiding behind my outer bitch was the only way I knew without Brittany.

Finn shook his head at the floor with a bitter smile. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, I know you're in mourning or whatever-"

I cocked my head to the side defiantly. "You don't know a thing about me, Hudson. You don't know anything. Hell, I'm surprised you even know how to wipe your own ass; or do you not have that one down yet, either?"

His face turned stony, and he advanced on me with his fists clenched at his sides. "No, you know what, I do know you. I've been sitting in the choir room with you every day for the last three years. I've seen you at your best and your worst, and I've been insulted by you through it all. I even know that the only reason you do insult me is because at least if you're mean to people, you have control over the fact that they don't like you. But guess what? All of us here, we like you anyway. We're your friends. I am your goddamn friend, Santana." He grabbed my shoulders tightly and held angry eye contact with me. "And because I'm your friend, I know that you are in more pain right now than you've ever been in, like, ever. You _loved_ Brittany and I know you feel like you've lost everything. I know you think none of us can understand, but we can. It's just a lot harder when you won't let us."

His hands dropped back to his sides, and he turned and leaned on the sink next to me. "Look, I know this all seems impossible right now, but you're not alone in this. All of us here - me and Puck and Quinn and Rachel, and even Sam - we've got your back. We are here for you." He sighed deeply. "And if it helps, I know it doesn't really compare, but I can kind of relate to what you're going through. It's not the same, but I lost the girl I love, too."

I looked at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

He glanced at me seriously before he dropped his eyes again to the tile. "I... am going to love Rachel until the day I die. But, she doesn't love me back anymore. She isn't mine anymore." He turned his whole body toward me. "I know it's not even close to the same thing that you're going through. I guess... I just want you to know that if you need someone to talk to... someone who can at least sort of relate, I'm here."

I clasped my hands in front of me and opened my mouth to make some sort of witty, sarcastic retort but stopped myself. I pulled my lips between my teeth. "Thanks, Finn." I paused and peered at him sideways. "Wait, how do you know Berry doesn't love you anymore?"

He puffed air out of his nose. "Come on, Santana, I know you've seen her and Quinn. The way they act together... I'm not stupid."

I started to make a comeback - it was just too easy - but he interrupted me before I could say actually anything. "Okay, okay, I'm not _blind_. Better?"

I allowed myself a small, but real, smile. "Look, Finn, all I know is that for all the time I've known Quinn, she's spent most of her time being fake-happy. She spent her whole life pretending to be okay with the life that was handed to her. Now, with Berry, for whatever reason, she's actually happy. Like _for real_ happy. And so is Rachel. It sucks to have to watch that from your end, I know, but when shit like this is going down," I gestured all around me, intending to indicate everything that had brought us there, "you have to appreciate it if anyone can find that kind of happiness anywhere. As crazy as it is that it ended up being those two."

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye and heard a loud sniff. After a moment's hesitation, I took his hand and squeezed. I didn't meet his eyes again, but I was filled with sincerity when I reassured him, "She does still care about you, you know."

He bobbed his head again. I heard him swallow roughly before he responded. "I know."

We fell into silence until another set of footsteps sounded in the hall outside the locker room. We looked up to see a rather disheveled and out of breath Rachel sprinting through the doorway. "What are you two doing? I thought you were dead. Or worse! What is the hold up?"

"I'm sorry, Rach, we were talking-"

Rachel's voice was frantic, and she couldn't seem to stand still. "I sent you down here twenty minutes ago, Finn! You couldn't walk and talk at the same time?"

I jumped in, hoping to stop her before a full-on rant escaped. "Jesus, Berry, calm down. First of all, no, I'm pretty sure the teen giant can't walk and talk at the same time. Second, what is the big emergency?"

She halted her pacing and her features became deadly serious. "I think you should come see for yourself."

* * *

The three of us jogged up the stairs to the hallway with the big window overlooking the quad. Soft light spilled in from outside, where the sun had just set on another day. Quinn was leaning on the sill with a cigarette blazing between her fingers. As we approached, I saw that her knuckles were white where she gripped the window's frame, and her face was drained of color.

"What's the deal, Q?" She whipped her head in my direction at the sound of my voice. Her eyes were wide and red around the edges. She moved aside and jerked a thumb over her shoulder, silently telling me to look out the window.

Before I stepped forward, I paused. I hushed everyone, even though no one was saying anything. From below me, outside, I heard a distant-sounding grumbling. I thought it might have been the whine of a generator, but it was a deeper, less constant sound.

I took another step toward the window and froze. I felt bile rise painfully in my throat.

As I stood before the window, I vaguely heard Puck arrive with Sam in tow. The hushed voices of everyone around me mingled in a singular drone of noise until Sam, physically hostile in his body language, appeared beside me at the window and visibly stiffened at the sight before him. He licked his big lips and sucked in halting breaths before he muttered his piece.

"Shit."

Below us, an entire mob of what had to be more than forty Draggers had formed at the entrance to the school and were pushing ineffectively at the doors. They surged forward in a sort of slow motion pulse, a mass of sloppy grayness. They pushed forward and back like a tide. They were impossible to count. They shuffled and bumped between each other, without any true direction, but unmistakably toward the building. They looked... hungry.

****"Yeah," I agreed. "Shit."


End file.
